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The air was full of flying sparks and cinders. 

—Page 58 






HEAVE SHORT! 

BY 

CHARLES PENDEXTER DURELL 

Author of “The Skipper of the Cynthia B” 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

HAROLD BRETT 


1923 

MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 

SPRINGFIELD MASSACHUSETTS 









Copyright, 1923, by 
MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 
Publishers 

Heave Short 



Bradley Quality Books 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


JUN 25 1923 


©C1A7 52025 



To 

MID AND BETTY 

Who love Cape Cod,—its smiling skies, its sparkling waters, 
this book is affectionately dedicated 
by the author 


FOREWORD 


The title of this book is an order used by sea¬ 
faring men in getting a ship under way. 
When hoisting the sail, the anchor chain is 
pulled up until the anchor is directly under 
the bow, but still on the bottom. With the 
anchor still holding, the filling sails will not 
cause the ship to yaw, and thus interfere with 
the work. After the sails are hoisted, then 
the anchor is raised quickly to the bows and 
the ship is off. So, I have chosen “Heave 
Short,” signifying that we are ready to start: 
according to the mariner’s lingo, “Heave 
Short, H’ist the jibs, and fill away.” 

To William Lewis Parsons, Esq., I am 
deeply grateful for certain legal information, 
which he has so kindly given me. 


C. P. D. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Sam Hotchkiss Arrives at Saquoit . i 
II The Eastern Shellfish Company . 17 

III The New Sailboat.23 

IV Supper in the Vestry. 35 

V The Woods Fire. 49 

VI Strategy. 65 

VII The Capture. 74 

VIII The Reward.89 

IX A Slippery Piece of Wood .... 97 

X “Settin’ Tight”. x °7 

XI Bluff. n 9 

XII The One-way Harbor. *34 

XIII Cap’n Peter and Cap’n Joel ... 152 

XIV A Pair of Crooks.169 

XV A Stranger at Saquoit.180 

XVI Sam Lets Her Jibe.187 

XVII The Fighting Whale. 199 












CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII Two More Visitors. 211 

XIX After Blue Claws.222 

XX The Net Closes. 232 

XXI The Auction. 239 

XXII Tom Stearns Stays East .... 254 

XXIII The Launching. 264 

XXIV The Cynthia B. vs. The Surprise . .271 







HEAVE SHORT 


CHAPTER I 

SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES AT SAQUOIT 

“/'"'lAP’N SETH is expectin’ ye,” grinned 

V^l Eben Bates, the driver of the depot 
stage, affably, as he handed Sam Hotchkiss 
and his bags into the carryall. 

“Hey, Abner,” he yelled to a man standing 
bn the depot platform, who, like Sam, had 
just alighted from the Boston train. “Goin’ 
over to Saquoit?” 

“Cal’lated to,” drawled Abner, “if your 
rig’ll hold together.” 

“If you’re goin’ with me you’ll have to 
heave short and git yer jib up in a hurry,” 
called Eben. “I’m late as it is.” 

“It’s the fust time I ever knew you to be in 
a hurry,” grumbled Abner, as he climbed in¬ 
to the back seat. “I alius like to stay and see 


2 


HEAVE SHORT 


the train pull out. What’s the matter, ’fraid 
you’re old crow bait is going to die on ye, 
if you don’t git thar quick?” 

“This hoss ain’t the dyin’ kind,” snapped 
the stage driver. 

“Wal, I reckon you can git over to the vil¬ 
lage ’fore he does anyway, for if he was goin’ 
to die he’d take his time about it, if he lived 
up to his reputation.” 

Eben Bates ignored this remark and turned 
to Sam. “You’ve come down purty early this 
season, ain’t ye?” he asked. 

“Yes, I didn’t come till nearly July last 
year,” answered the boy. 

“What’s the matter, don’t ye go to school?” 
questioned Eben. 

“Yes, I go to school, but I took my exams 
early and got off.” 

“Sho, that’s funny. Warn’t cuttin’ up was 
ye, so they was anxious to git clear of ye?” 
he chuckled. 

“No,” laughed Sam. “Some of us got high 
enough grade in school so that the principal 
allowed us to leave as soon as we had all the 
work done.” 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 


3 


“Wal, that’s better than I ever done,” said 
Eben reflectively. “Guess you must be purty 
smart in books.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” said Sam hastily, 
not wishing to give Eben the idea that he 
was bragging. “There were quite a number 
did the same thing. I just dug in, that’s all. 
I had such a good time down here last sum¬ 
mer that I wanted to get here as soon as I 
could.” 

“That beats all,” remarked Eben. “When 
I was in school, I got as fur as the rule er 
three, and there I stuck. Couldn’t seem to 
git no further, so I quit and went coastin’.” 

Sam had no idea what the rule of three 
was, but he did not wish to embarrass the 
driver of the stage by asking. 

“Had a good time last summer, did ye?” 
Eben continued. 

“You bet,” said Sam. 

“Got to be sunthin’ of a sailor,” he smiled. 
“I see ye win the boat race over to the Sianna 
Yacht Club in August. That was a good 
race: the Cynthy B is an able boat.” 

Without waiting for Sam to more than nod 


4 


HEAVE SHORT 


assent he went on. “D’you ever know Cap’n 
Seth Nickerson and his wife ’fore you and 
your folks come down last summer? Didn’t? 
Wal, you couldn’t have found a better board¬ 
in’ place. Awful nice folks, the Nickersons 
be. Yes suh, Cap’n Seth has helped more 
people out er trouble and eased ’em over 
shoals than any man in town. ‘If you’re in 
trouble, go to Seth Nickerson,’ has been the 
motto in this town fer quite a spell. 

“Le’s see, yer pa warn’t very well when 
you come last year, was he? How is he 
now?” 

“Oh, he’s all right,” answered Sam. “The 
summer down here did him worlds of good. 
He and Mother have gone to North Carolina 
this week. He gave me my choice of going 
with them or coming down here and I chose 
Saquoit.” 

“You don’t say!” ejaculated Eben. “Gi’n 
up a trip like that to cruise along with Cap’n 
Seth. You’d stopped at all the best hotels 
most likely. Don’t that beat all! If any- 
buddy ever asked me to ship on a voyage like 
that they wouldn’t have to urge me none,” he 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 


5 


chuckled. “I ain’t never been anywhere, 
hardly, except when I was coastin’, and then 
I didn’t have a chance to see nothin’. When 
I made New York I didn’t dare go off the 
dock. No, I ain’t been no where except from 
the house to the barn, and I can’t find my way 
there in a fog,” he laughed. 

“Git ap, git ap, Jerry,” chirped the driver. 
“I’ve got to git home and shift my clothes 
in time to git up to the Wescusset House for 
supper with a feller. I ain’t passin’ by no- 
chance for free victuals.” 

Soon the stage stopped at the Craig’s Mills 
post office, where Eben dragged the mail bags 
from under the back seat and carried them 
inside. 

“Know how Eb happens to be goin’ up to 
the hotel for supper?” asked Abner of Sam. 
Abner had kept silent during the ride. 

“No,” answered Sam, who had no partic¬ 
ular interest in Eben’s meals. 

“I’ll bet ye a silver dollar agin a cent he’s 
goin’ up to eat with that feller Hastings,” 
he announced. “Yes suh, that’s it, sure’s 
you’re a foot high.” 


6 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Hastings?” asked Sam. “I guess I don’t 
know him.” 

“No, you wouldn’t know him. You ain’t 
been here sence last summer and Hastings 
jest hove in. Wal, I’ll tell ye. He’s what 
they call a promoter, from New York. Got 
lots er money: dresses right up to the nines. 
He’s formed a; stock company to run all the 
shellfish business in town. Been buyin’ all the 
oyster grants he could and sellin’ stock in the 
company besides. Purty good thing, too. 
He’s bought nigh everybuddy’s oyster grants 
here at Saquoit and over to Masonville, and 
they claim there’s some big capitalists back 
of it. I hear that Cap’n Seth and two or three 
more is kinder holdin’ off and won’t sell out 
to the company, nor buy stock, nuther one. 
I reckon after a while they’ll come to it. 
I’d go into it in a minute if I had any money.” 

The recital was cut short by the reappear¬ 
ance of the stage driver, who had waited for 
the mail to be sorted and Saquoit’s portion 
placed in a separate bag. 

“All aboard,” he shouted. “Git ap.” 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 7 

As they rode along the plains and marshes, 
Sam was lost in the May time beauties of 
Cape Cod. He could hear the clear peep 
of the frogs and the hopeful whistle of the 
whip-poor-will. To the boy of fifteen, who 
had been housed in a school room all winter, 
the spring twilight sounds of the beloved Cape 
Cod came as the sweetest music, particularly 
as he thought of the joyous four months 
ahead: four months of outdoors, four months 
of fishing and sailing, four months at Uncle 
Seth’s. 

In May on Cape Cod the air is soft and 
filled with the earthy smells and the scent of 
swelling buds. Hope and promise come to 
age and youth alike and fill the heart with 
the joy of living. When the day wanes on 
the harbors, marshes, lakes and meadows, 
all the singing and chirping things of the 
twilight hours furnish vespers of cheer. 

“I wish Td jest sold a parstur lot,” came 
from Abner in the back seat. 

“Eh?” said Eben. “Wha’ for?” 

“Mebbe then I’d git an invite up to the 


8 


HEAVE SHORT 


Wescusset for supper,” said he mournfully. 

“What are ye talking about, Abner Ben¬ 
son?” demanded the driver. 

“Oh, nothin’,” he said, “only I cal’lated 
Hastings was givin’ ye a supper.” 

“Wal, s’posin’ he is,” snorted Eb. “Gut a 
right to, ain’t he, as long as he can pay for 
it?” 

“Sartin, sartin,” Abner hastened to say. 
“I was only sayin’ that if I’d sold a parstur, 
same as you have, mebbe I could git in on 
this thing.” 

Silence followed as the old White horse 
plodded down the tree-bordered village street 
with its snug white cottages. 

Suddenly Sam spied Captain Seth Nick¬ 
erson and his wife, Aunt Cynthia, at their 
gate waiting for the stage. They hadn’t 
changed a bit, thought Sam. Aunt Cynthia 
in her neat gingham gown, and snow white 
neckerchief with the same cameo pin, looked 
not a day older. Uncle Seth, “broad of beam,” 
as he himself said, with white hair and beard 
and the glow of health upon his cheeks, stood 
as erect as he did in the days when he paced 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 


9 


a vessel’s deck, thirty years before. Just the 
kind of man that boys, real boys, gravitate 
towards. Just the kind of man who would 
say, “Wal, son, how about gittin’ a mess of 
clams?” or sitting upon the bench on the 
sunny side of the woodshed would begin, 
“Makes me think of the time—” and so on. 
Like Sam, nearly every one called Captain 
Nickerson, Uncle Seth. 

Sam leaped from the wagon before it 
stopped and rushed toward the old couple at 
the gate. He planted a smack upon the soft 
cheek of Aunt Cynthia and shook hands with 
Captain Nickerson. 

“Wal, Sam, I believe you’ve grown a head 
and you’re ten pounds heavier. Ain’t he shot 
up though, Cynthia?” said Uncle Seth. 

“I guess likely he has,” admitted his wife. 
“That seems to be a habit with boys and I 
often think they must be kinder sick of hearin’ 
older folks marvel at it so much. I know 
when our Robert was growin’ up he used to 
say, ‘Mother, it seems as though all folks talk 
about to me is how I’m growin’.’ ” 

“Don’t you worry, Cynthia,” smiled her 


10 


HEAVE SHORT 


husband. “Sam and I will have plenty to 
talk about after we git squared away. Jest 
now Sam would ruther hear you say supper 
was ready than anything else.” 

“Goodness me, I was goin’ to make corn 
muffins!” she exclaimed as she hurried for 
the kitchen. 

Aunt Cynthia was never as happy as when 
preparing “good victuals” for her “men 
folks.” Sam remembered the wonderful 
dishes that Aunt Cynthia concocted last sum¬ 
mer. It didn’t seem as though he ever ate 
anything that tasted so good as the food at 
Uncle Seth’s. 

“Wal, Sam, I’m glad to see ye and no mis¬ 
take,” said Uncle Seth heartily. “You must 
feel considerbul set up that you come out 
so well in your studies.” 

“I’m glad I did,” said Sam, “but you know 
there were others who did the same thing.” 

“That’s all right, Sam, s’posin’ there was. 
You gut what you went after by workin’ hard. 
The habit of workin’ hard is the main thing 
anyway, whether you win or not,” said the 
old man earnestly. 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 


11 


Just at that moment there came to Sam a 
feeling that Uncle Seth was not quite him¬ 
self : that he seemed to have something 
on his mind. True it was that he laughed 
and joked but at the same time Sam had a 
“hunch” that the old man had something that 
he was “figgerin’ on,” as he himself would 
have said. 

“How have you been this winter since we 
saw you, Uncle Seth?” asked Sam. 

“Fust class, Sam,” responded Captain Nick¬ 
erson. “Don’t seem to be driftin’ astern a 
mite, so fur as I can see.” 

“I’ll bet it’s that stock company that’s got 
him worried,” thought Sam, and resolved to 
ask him point blank about it at the first oppor¬ 
tunity. 

“How’s the fishing?” he asked. 

“To tell ye the truth, I ain’t had time to 
wet a line yit,” said Uncle Seth. “I’ve been 
gardening and paintin’ and general chorin’ 
’round so I’ve been purty well driv up.” 

“I think I could paint,” asserted Sam, 
“and I could do something in the garden too, 
I’m sure.” 


12 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Wal, I’m alius willin’ to take on an extry 
hand, especially if he’s willin’. There’ll be 
plenty to do around here for a spell and we 
can enjoy playin’ better, I cal’late, when we’ve 
got our work all done up.” 

“Got the Cynthia B. in the water yet?” 
asked Sam. 

“I have jest, and that’s about all. I ain’t 
hardly sailed her yit,” said the old skipper. 
“I scraped her and give her a coat of paint 
and shoved her in. She’s down there swellin’ 
up. She needs a new main sheet and her 
upper works ought to be gone over. There’s 
sure plenty for us to do.” 

“And it will all be fun,” declared the boy. 
“You can set me to work bright and early in 
the morning.” 

Never once did Uncle Seth remind Sam of 
how the summer before, as a fourteen-year- 
old, he had come to Saquoit under protest 
with his mouth all puckered to have a mis¬ 
erable time. That was like Uncle SetK 
not to bring up unpleasant topics. But things 
hadn’t been dull. The pleasures of the shore 
had been unfolded to the boy, under the old 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 


13 


sea captain’s guidance, and he was soon having 
the time of his life. He had learned to do 
things: sail a boat, fish, catch blue claws and 
besides that, the adventure and fascination of 
the old seafaring days had been recited to 
him by the old skipper, until Sam, too, in 
fancy fought the northern gales and trod the 
heaving deck. 

“Where do you want Zeb Makepeace to 
put them spars, Seth?” called his wife from 
the kitchen. “He’s jest driv up and he’s in 
a hurry.” 

“Tell him to dump ’em down anywhere 
except on top of my cold frame,” called the 
captain. 

“Did you have to get new spars for the 
Cynthia B.?” asked Sam solicitously. 

“No, them’s for another boat I’m buildin’,” 
answered Uncle Seth. 

“Is there anything the matter with the 
Cynthia? You aren’t going to discard her, 
are you?” inquired Sam, his eyes wide 
open. 

“Bless ye, no, she’s all right. Never better,” 
the old sailor hastened to assure the boy. 


14 


HEAVE SHORT 


Sam had had a moment of uneasiness. He 
loved the little catboat in which he had ex¬ 
plored every crook and corner of Saquoit Bay 
and he would have sorrowed deeply if any 
disaster had befallen the craft he had learned 
to sail and in which he had won a race the 
summer before. 

“I’m buildin’ this craft for a feller up 
[Boston way/’ explained Captain Nickerson. 
“He see the Cynthia B. and liked her fust 
rate, so I’m buildin’ this one for him. I was 
some time makin’ up my mind to undertake 
the job but its cornin’ on purty well; all 
planked and decked over. Some finishin’ 
off to do and then her paintin’ and riggin’ 
will take some time. Guess a month or six 
weeks ought to fetch it.” 

“Supper,” called Aunt Cynthia, and Sam 
needed no second invitation, for he had had 
an early lunch. 

While he ate the crisp corn muffins, broiled 
flounders, beach plum jelly, topped off with 
fluffy whipped cream pie, Sam talked of his 
winter at home in Boston. 


SAM HOTCHKISS ARRIVES 


15 


“This filet of sole is great, Aunt Cynthia,” 
he said, as he passed his plate for the third 
helping. 

“Filly what?” asked Uncle Seth, in aston¬ 
ishment. 

“Why, filet of sole,” said Sam. “I’ve eaten 
it when I’ve lunched with Father at the club, 
but it didn’t come up to this.” 

“Bless your heart these ain’t nothin’ but 
flounders,” said Mrs. Nickerson. “Lucy 
Emma’s husband caught a mess and they had 
more’n they wanted, so she brought us some.” 

“They are what we call English sole in 
Boston,” declared Sam. 

“Seems to me I’ve heard they call’m sun- 
thin’ different after their train ride to Boston,” 
said Captain Nickerson. “They take the bone 
out of ’em, the same as we do here, but when 
they git up town them flounders begin to git 
puffed up and put on airs and take on a fancy 
name.” 

“They are good, whatever the name is,” 
said Sam. 

“Don’t seem as though you’d et a thing,” 


16 


HEAVE SHORT 


complained Mrs. Nickerson. “Have some 
more of this cream pie, do.” 

Sam declared that he was full to the eyes 
and hadn’t eaten a meal that tasted as good 
since he was at Saquoit before. 


CHAPTER II 

THE EASTERN SHELLFISH COMPANY 

I T was six o’clock the next morning when 
Sam was awakened by a call from Uncle 
Seth at the foot of the stairs. 

“Turn out, aloft there.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” cried Sam, his feet striking 
the floor. He hustled into his clothes, and 
was down in the kitchen in short order, where 
the old Captain was building the fire. 

“You must have slept in your clothes,” said 
the old man. 

“No,” laughed Sam, “but I didn’t waste any 
time in getting them on.” 

“Aunt Cynthia ain’t showed up yit,” Uncle 
Seth remarked, as he touched a match to the 
pile of kindlings. “Now that’s started I’ll 
go out and do the chores.” 

Sam followed him to the barn and helped 
in the “before breakfast chores.” He gave 

17 


18 


HEAVE SHORT 


Bess, the cow, a measure of grain and forked 
sweet smelling hay from the loft. While 
Uncle Seth got out the milking stool and sat 
down beside the sleek Holstein, Sam opened 
the tie-up door and looking down the pasture 
lane he breathed deeply of the fresh early 
morning air. 

“You’d have more light if you sat on the 
other side of the cow,” he commented. 

“Yes, yes, but I don’t hanker to try it,” 
chuckled the old man. “Cows are funny 
about that. You alius want to milk a cow 
from the starb’ud side. If you ever tried it 
on the port side she’d most likely kick you 
and the pail all over the deck.” 

“Are you in earnest?” asked Sam, thinking 
it might be one of the old sailor’s jokes. 

“Sartin, I’m in earnest,” said Uncle Seth. 
“I ain’t goin’ to demonstrate what she’d do if 
I went up alongside of her to port. I done 
that once when I fust come home from sea. 
You’ll have to take my word for it. I don’t 
know why it is cows are so finnicky about 
that: mebbe its the female of the critter.” 

Sam sat down on a stool where he could 


EASTERN SHELLFISH COMPANY 19 


watch the old man and hear the musical sound 
of the streams of milk as each one stirred the 
milk already in the pail to a froth. 

“There was a chap on the stage yesterday 
who was telling me about an oyster company 
that somebody was forming—” 

“Yes, yes, they’ve formed one,” muttered 
Uncle Seth, “and it bothers me like time. I 
don’t say much about it to Cynthy, but I’m 
considerbul worried about it.” 

“Why do you worry about it?” asked the 
boy. “You don’t have to buy any of the stock 
nor sell out your oyster grant to them.” 

“No, I don’t, that’s a fact,” Captain Nicker¬ 
son agreed, “but my neighbors and friends in 
town think they do, and I think they’re makin’ 
a big mistake. That feller Hastings has gut 
’em hog tied. He’s suppered ’em at the hotel 
and he’s cigarred ’em, till they believe every 
word he tells ’em. 

“I’ll tell ye. Hastings blew in here about 
a week ago; started right in talkin’ about com¬ 
binin’ all the oyster grants in town and over 
to Masonville and makin’ one big company 
out of ’em. He’s bought grants, right and left, 


20 


HEAVE SHORT 


payin’ for ’em mostly in stock, I hear. Made 
out that there’d be more money in it for every- 
buddy if it was all under one management: 
improved methods, better prices for shell¬ 
fish and so on. He’s a slick appearin’ feller, 
’course, that is the kind that would alius do 
that sort of business, but I figger he’s a good 
deal like a Ben Davis apple, not nigh so good 
as he looks. He’s sold stock, too, and a lot 
of it.” 

“What makes you think that it isn’t a good 
thing, Uncle Seth?” asked Sam, who had al¬ 
ways heard more or less of combines and stock 
companies from his father and his associates 
in the lumber trade. 

“I don’t know, Sam,” replied the old man 
thoughtfully. “I jest have the feelin’ that 
our folks here are goin’ to lose. Yer see, I 
don’t know anything about sech things and 
mebbe that’s why I’m sorter prejudiced 
against ’em. 

“I’ve figgered it out this way. These pro¬ 
moters’ll git all the grants under their control 
and keepin’ controllin’ interest in the concern, 
mebbe make some money the fust year. The 


EASTERN SHELLFISH COMPANY 21 


folks that hold stock will think they’re git- 
tin’ a purty soft thing and the promoters 
can begin to unload on ’em slow and careful 
like. The fust thing anybuddy’ll know the 
New York fellers will git rid of all their 
stock and the local stock holders will be left 
holdin’ the bag. 

“Yes suh, its gut me worried. It ain’t very 
often that I let anything trouble me much, 
but this ’ere is so much out of my general 
course, that I feel sort of helpless.” 

“These promoters may be honest,” said Sam. 
“Perhaps it will be a good thing.” 

“Don’t believe it,” said the old man. 
“There ain’t no folks with money that these 
fellers claim is back of the thing goin’ to come 
down here and mix up in a little shellfish busi- 
iness. No suh, Sam, there’s a hole in the 
skimmer somewheres but I can’t find it.” 

“It’s a darn shame,” said Sam indignantly. 

“It is, and no mistake,” said Captain Seth. 
“There’s folks buyin’ this stock that’s puttin’ 
all they’ve got into it. Folks that ain’t gut 
but five hundred dollars to their names handin’ 
it over to this man Hastings.” 


22 


HEAVE SHORT 


“I could write to Father and see if he could 
suggest anything,” said Sam, hopefully, who 
thought that his father could handle almost 
any situation. 

“I reckon he’s too busy to fool ’round with 
our little two-penny squabbles down here,” 
said the old man, shaking his head sadly. “I 
wouldn’t bother him, if I was you. But I’m 
sorry for our folks, if it all turns out the way 
I’m ’fraid its goin’ to, and I’m sorry for our 
little shellfish industry.” 

“I am going to write Father tonight,” de¬ 
clared Sam. “I’m not afraid of bothering 
him.” 

“Wal, wal, do jest as you are a mind to, 
Sam, I’m stumped, and no mistake.” 


CHAPTER III 
THE NEW SAIL BOAT 
NCLE Seth had apparently put all 



u disquieting thoughts of his dilemma out 
of his mind, for at breakfast he joked and 
laughed as though he hadn’t a care in the 
world. 

Perhaps the old sailor was feeling easier 
now that Sam’s father was to be consulted. 
Not so with Sam,—he felt that he would like 
to do something desperate to rid the town of 
these stock promoters. 

“Wal, Sam, let’s have a look at the new 
boat,” suggested Uncle Seth. “We’ll work 
on her a spell this mornin’.” 

“Oh, yes, Uncle Seth,” said Sam, “I had 
almost forgotten you were building a craft.” 

“There she is,” announced the old skipper, 
throwing open the door to the shop. “What 
do you think of her?” 


23 


24 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Isn’t she a dandy!” exclaimed the boy. 
“But she isn’t any better than the Cynthia B., 
even if she is bigger,” he added loyally. 

“No, I guess she ain’t no better than the 
Cynthy, ,f said the old man, “nor much big¬ 
ger either. You see her bow’s a leetle more 
slopin’ and her stern more shaller and not so 
square. That makes her look longer than 
she reely is. You notice her stern is nar- 
rered up so she’ll steer well, if she’s runnin’ 
’fore heavy seas. They’ll ride by her and 
she’ll rise to each sea like a duck. She’s a 
good weather boat or I miss my guess.” 

The Captain rubbed his hand over the 
smooth surface of the hull. “Plenty of curve 
to her bulwarks from stem to stern: she’ll ride 
the rollers like a frigate bird, that craft 
will.” 

“She’s a stout looking boat, all right,” re¬ 
marked Sam. 

“Stout, I guess she is stout,” asserted the 
builder. “I’ve put her together for keeps,— 
oak keel and timbers and every piece of her 
as clear as a nut. That boat is built right, 
if I do say it.” 


THE NEW SAIL BOAT 


25 


“I’m anxious to see her slide into the water,” 
said Sam. 

“I’ll be kinder interested to see how she 
rides, myself,” admitted the Captain. “She’ll 
be a purty boat, I think. I’ll paint her hull 
white with a green water line. Then, with 
the coamin’ and ribbon varnished, she’ll be 
a sight for sore eyes, I tell ye.” 

“She surely will,” agreed Sam, as he looked 
at the graceful lines of the curving hull. 

“It’s been some time sence I built a boat,” 
said Uncle Seth, “and if this one turns out 
as well as I expect, it’s goin’ to be considerbul 
satisfaction, for when I started the job I 
wondered whether I’d kept my hand in and 
whether I could do it or not.” 

“I guess there’s no doubt about that,” said 
Sam heartily. 

“I guess the old man’s come back after all,” 
he chuckled. “Sunthin’ like an old whale I 
knew once—” 

“A whale you knew?” laughed Sam. 

“Sure,” said the old salt. “You see there’s 
whales that you remember and there’s those 
jyou don’t. Some you feel acquainted with 


26 


HEAVE SHORT 


and some that you jest haul in. I reckon 
there’s personalities among whales jest as 
there is among folks.” 

“What about this particular whale, Uncle 
Seth?” asked Sam. 

“Wal, I’ll tell ye,” began Uncle Seth. “Yer 
see, I alius have to start at the beginnin’ and 
things come along natural like. It was when 
I was boat steerer on the Luella Bently. We 
got under way from New Bedford in October. 
Had good weather all the way to Cape Verde 
and purty nigh all the way south to the Cape 
of Good Hope: that is, no bad gales nor 
nothin’. Wal, we rounded the Cape and then 
on up to Madagascar, takin’ whales occasion¬ 
ally along. We gut into the Indian Ocean 
and there it was that I run afoul of this whale 
I speak of. 

“One mornin’, jest at the crack of day, the 
lookout at the masthead sings out, ‘Thar she 
blows, b-l-o-w-s, b-l-o-w-s.’ Everybuddy 
tumbled on deck in a hurry. 

“ ‘Where away?’ yelled the old man. 

“ ‘Three p’ints off the lee bow, sir . 1 

“ ‘Thar she breaches.’ 


THE NEW SAIL BOAT 


27 


“ ‘Lower away the boats,’ called the Cap’n. 
Everything was hustle and bustle. I can see 
that ship’s deck now,” said Uncle Seth, rem¬ 
iniscently squinting his eyes. “I can hear 
the rattle of the falls as them four boats took 
the water with hardly a jolt. 

“The ship keeper had trimmed the yards 
to the wind and hauled up courses, so when 
her helm was put down it deadened her way, 
and the boats could put off without foulin’ 
one another. 

“I was in the Cap’n’s boat. We put for 
that whale, everybuddy bendin’ to it. A 
whale boat goes through the water purty, I 
tell ye. About twenty-eight foot long, she is; 
as clean as a dolphin and rides the seas like 
a Mother Carey’s chicken. 

“We come up to that whale gentle like, 
purty nigh wood to black skin. He was a 
lone bull. He didn’t notice us, for he was 
feedin’. But then, a whale can’t see very well 
anyway, for his eyes are purty well aft down 
nigh to the angle of his jaw and he has to 
turn his head from side to side in order to 
look with both eyes. They claim he’s gut two 


HEAVE SHORT 


28 

fields of vision, if you know what I mean. 

“I was forrud, you remember that’s where 
the boatsteerer is till after he strikes a whale, 
then he runs aft and takes the steerin’ oar. 

I gut my thigh in the clumsy cleat, that’s the 
crotch you know, with paddin’ on it for a 
man to brace his leg against so he can keep his 
balance when he strikes, and the old man 
whispered, ‘Give it to him.’ 

“I gut both irons into the whale and then 
we backed off and waited to see what he’d do. 
We knew he’d do one of several things. He 
might swim around in a circle, millin’ we call 
it, or he might git his eye on the boat and 
charge it, or he might sink or he might start 
and run. Wal, he started goin’ in a circle. 
He was a big feller and I judged would go 
better than eighty bar’l. After he’d milled 
for a spell he sounded, that is, went down. 
Never in my life see a whale run out so much 
line, nor one that stayed down so long, never. 
We bent on one tub of line and then another, 
hitchin’ drogues on each of ’em to slow him 
up all we could. Still he kept goin’. After 
awhile he come up to the wind’ard and we 


THE NEW SAIL BOAT 


29 


begun to haul in as fast as we could. Then 
he begun to run. Jimmynetty, how he did 
run! Took us on one of the doggondest Nan¬ 
tucket sleigh rides you ever see. 

“All of a sudden the line come slack and! 
we took in fast. 

“Now we can git alongside of him, X 
thought to myself and we did, only it was 
t’other way ’round. He gut alongside of us. 
We was within fifty foot of him when he 
ketched sight of our boat and down he come, 
straight for us, with that old under jaw of his 
hangin’ open. 

“I give the steerin’ oar a quick turn and gut 
out of his way. The whale boat bounced 
around in his wash like a dipper duck. When 
the critter went by us the old man driv the 
lance into him. I expected to see him spout 
thick blood, but, no suh! he done nothin’ of 
the kind. He come for us again. 

“Again we dodged him but the Cap’n 
couldn’t jab him with the lance. We dodged 
that whale three times, and each time I 
thought sure we was goin’ to be stove. 

“He stopped a hundred foot off or so, and 


30 


HEAVE SHORT 


at that minute our boat shot up in the air, and 
us with it, of course, like it had been shot from 
a bow gun. Whale line and oars and tubs 
was throwed every which way. It w^s the 
most mixed-up mess you ever see. 

“When I gut my senses and grabbed a 
floating oar, I see what had happened. An¬ 
other bull had come up under us and had 
stove our whale boat into a million pieces. 

“The larb’ud boat was nearby and picked 
us up and we made off toward the ship 
and watched them two bulls. Off in the dis¬ 
tance I see a school of cows, and I knew 
right off, that this second feller was a young 
bull from that herd, for they’ll go out of their 
way to fight a lone bull. The one we struck 
was an old feller and had been driv out of 
some herd probably. 

“Wal, suh, them two whales backed off from 
each other a piece and then, with their great 
under jaws hangin’ down showin’ their great 
wicked lookin’ teeth they come for one an¬ 
other. 

“Smack! they come together head on, eighty 


THE NEW SAIL BOAT 


31 


tons of bone and flesh, as though propelled 
by powerful engines. Their jaws interlocked 
and sech twistin’ and heavin’ you never see. 
Great strips of flesh was tore from their heads 
and the water all around ’em was a mass of 
red foam. 

“Our whale was handicapped, no doubt, 
by havin’ two irons and a lance wound in him, 
but you wouldn’t notice it, for he fought 
savage. He gut loose from the younger one 
and backin’ off come at him again. We could 
hear the thud! thud! when their bodies struck 
each other with tremendous force. Some¬ 
times their flukes was out of water, and some¬ 
times their heads, but, whichever way it was, 
they hung to one another and wrenched and 
tore like sixty. 

“For more’n a hour they kept at it: pound¬ 
in’ and thrashin’ this way and that. Our 
drogues was a mass of splinters throwed out 
over the surface of the reddened crests. 

“Sudden like, the young whale sunk like 
a stone. Then as sudden, up he come and gut 
an under holt on the old feller. Both of ’em 


32 


HEAVE SHORT 


was blowin’ in roarin’ gasps. Crack! went 
their jaws as their teeth snapped on Mother’s 
head. 

“ ‘Go it, old feller,’ hollered the men. 
Sympathy seemed to be with him, for we felt 
acquainted with him, somehow, and then I 
reckon the men sorter pitied the old cuss who 
had been driv out of his herd by some of the 
younger bulls. 

“ ‘Hang to him,’ came from the bow boat 
that had pulled up to watch the fight. 

“At that minute the old gray-backed one 
got a tremendous holt. Jimmynetty, how he 
lifted! He fetched a mighty heave that 
seemed to fairly lift the young one clean out 
of water. 

“Crack! came a report like the breakin’ of 
a big tree at the butt and the young whale 
flopped a bit, and lay fin out. 

“ ‘Pull for ’em,’ yelled the old man. The 
mate’s boat made for the young dead whale 
and the starb’ud boat for the old one. The 
boat we was in, havin’ a double crew, couldn’t 
do nothin’, so we jest watched. I warn’t in¬ 
terested in the dead whale, for all they’d got 


THE NEW SAIL BOAT 


33 


to do was to git the fluke chains on him and 
tow him to the ship, but the old bull layin’ 
there blowin’, interested me considerbul. 
The starb’ud boat was within five boat lengths 
of him and somehow I was turrible glad it 
hadn’t fell to my lot to kill that old whale. 
I’d ben whalin’ for some time. That was how 
I earned my livin’, killin’ whales, but with 
this whale it was different. Here he was, a 
lone old bull who had been driv out of his 
herd, but had earned his place again by kill¬ 
ing the younger one. It did seem a pity to 
make way with him after he’d put up sech 
a fight with two irons in him. 

“I wondered if the second mate, who was 
standin’ in the bow, waitin’ with his lance 
ready, felt the same way I did. Now they 
was two boat lengths from the old feller who 
was puffin’ away from the effects of his battle. 
Now one boat length, when, if you’ll believe 
me, that old bull settled, sunk horizontally, 
as they do sometimes, with hardly a splash. 
Jest went down, quiet like, and he warn’t there 
no more. 

“The men rested on their oars and looked 


34 


HEAVE SHORT 


at each other. I reckon they was all sorter 
glad the old critter’d gone down. He’d come 
up miles away most likely. There wouldn’t 
be any use in chasin’ him, for he’d go like the 
wind. 

“ ‘Wal, boys,’ says the old man, ‘there goes 
ninety bar’ls of oil. Pull for the ship.’ 

“Everybuddy jest set back and cheered,— 
cheered for that eighty barrel whale, even 
though the money warn’t to be sneezed at. 

“As we pulled over to the ship, I could still 
see the herd of cows, and, directly, I see our 
old whale breach two mile away and then he 
started racin’ to join ’em. He’d come back, 
Sam, and I tell ye I felt he’d earned his 
place. 

“I can sympathize with him, for I’m grow¬ 
ing old myself. When I git a boat ready 
now, and she takes the water purty and turns 
out well, I sorter feel like I’d earned my place 
in the herd once more. Yes, suh, I alius feel 
considerbul fellership for that old gray- 
backed critter.” 


CHAPTER FOUR 
SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 

“OETH, you and Sam will need to slick up 

O a mite,” said Aunt Cynthia, “for we are 
goin’ up to the vestry for supper. You know, 
they are tryin’ to raise money enough for a 
new carpet for the church.” 

Mrs. Nickerson flew about the kitchen, 
hauling pans of savory food from the oven or 
stopping a few moments to beat some mix¬ 
ture at the table. 

“Cal’late you’re doin’ you share, ain’t ye, 
Cynthy?” asked Uncle Seth, half grumbling. 

“Of course I be,” affirmed his wife. “I 
aim to do more’n my share, for there’s plenty 
that won’t, and the rest of us have got to make 
up for ’em.” 

Uncle Seth chuckled. “I guess you’re 
right. There’s a heap of folks that are willin’ 

35 


36 


HEAVE SHORT 


to eat a church supper, especially for a small 
price. They have their hardest attack of re¬ 
ligion jest when the tickets are sellin’ for not 
over thirty-five cents. They eat about two 
dollars wuth for the thirty-five cents and then 
they settle back and feel satisfied that they’ve 
done purty well by the Lord.” 

“Anybuddy that didn’t know ye would think 
you was disrespectful of sacred things,” said 
his wife reproachfully. 

Uncle Seth went out to the shed and Aunt 
Cynthia confided to Sam, “Uncle Seth is so 
bitter against some of the folks in this town 
and the way they do things, it’s a wonder that 
some of ’em don’t git put out about it, but they 
don’t seem to. He pretends that he ain’t much 
of a church man, and says some purty sharp 
things about them that is, but, bless you, Seth 
Nickerson is one of the most religious men 
in the world, only he ain’t very much on hol¬ 
lerin’ around about it: if ever there was a 
man that hid his light under a bushel that 
man’s my husband. He never done a wrong 
thing in his life, knowingly, and he’s done 
a heap of good. His faith is as deep rooted 


SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 37 

as can be. But there, you know Uncle Seth 
and I don’t need to tell you what he is.” 

Sam went out to find the old Captain and 
the low rumblings of a sea chantey led him 
to the shop, where the old sailor was seated 
in front of a small mirror trimming his white 
beard with a pair of shears. 

“Doin’ a leetle barberin’,” he explained. 
“Thought I’d have to dude up a mite to please 
Cynthia.” 

“I never went to a church supper,” said the 
boy. 

“Sho, you never did,” he said, stopping his 
clipping to turn about on the stool. “Wal, 
wal, you’ll like it, I guess. It’s purty good 
fun to git together with the neighbors and 
talk and eat. You see, we have to make most 
of our good times down here, and them’s 
generally the best kind. Of course, they want 
the money for the new carpet but they’ve gut 
to have some excuse for gittin’ together.” 

“Where does the food come from?” asked 
Sam. “Do they buy it?” 

“Buy it, no,” chuckled the old man. 
“Everybuddy chips in and gives some, sun- 





38 


HEAVE SHORT 


thin’ like what the sailors call a tarpaulin 
muster. Aunt Cynthia’ll take a cake or two, 
or a pie or two, somebuddy else will take a 
pot er beans, or a biled ham, and so on. They 
alius have more food than they can eat and 
what’s left they generally auction off, or give 
to some poor family.” 

“That’s funny,” mused Sam. “Folks give 
the food, and then go and pay for their supper 
that’s made up of the food they have already 
given.” 

“That’s right, it is funny,” grinned Uncle 
Seth, combing the short hairs from his 
whiskers, “but that’s the way it works out. 
Why, I’ve known Cynthy to bake a pie and 
take it up there, we’d pay for our tickets, and 
then after supper, if the pie warn’t et, I’d bid 
it in at auction, so we’d really pay fer that 
pie three times. I cal’late Cynthy’s pies have 
cost me as high as two dollars a pie. They 
was wuth it, though, for Cynthy does make 
marster pie.” 

The church vestry was like a humming bee¬ 
hive, when they entered the door that evening. 


SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 


39 


Women with white aprons were bustling 
about, moving a dish here, and rearranging 
plates there, upon the long white paper-cov¬ 
ered tables. Paper napkins protruded from 
the heavy mugs at each place. The odor of 
steaming coffee and eatables came from the 
kitchen. 

Sam looked over the tables and the amount 
of good things that he saw amazed him. Plate 
after plate of brown rolls, platters of cold 
meat, castles and forts of frosted cake, and 
pies,—pies were everywhere. Yellow custard, 
with now and then a pie of the deeper shade 
of pumpkin, flanked by a stately cream pie 
with its white fluffy covering, made Sam’s 
mouth water. 

Deacon Ambrose arose and with a loud 
clearing of his throat for attention announced: 
“Ladies and Gentlemen: As Seth Nickerson 
has come we will now take our seats and 
proceed to make havoc of these victuals.” 

Everybody roared at this sally and Uncle 
Seth grinned good-naturedly, remarking that 
he hoped “somebuddy’d brought along an 


40 


HEAVE SHORT 


extry pot er beans for Deacon Ambrose.” 
Then with scraping of chairs and much 
laughter they rushed to their places. 

“What you in sech a hurry for, Eph,” said 
Uncle Seth, to a short thickset man, who was 
scrambling his way toward the head table. 

“I’ve gut my eye on that chocolate layer 
cake,” grinned Eph, as he finally succeeded in 
gaining the coveted position in proximity to 
the rich looking dainty he had indicated. 

“Trust Eph to git what he wants at a church 
supper,” laughed Uncle Seth. 

After Mr. Simmonds, the minister, had of¬ 
fered prayer, the company was seated and the 
platters and nappies and plates of good things 
were passed up and down the long tables. 
The waitresses began filling the mugs with 
coffee. There was an occasional mishap, as 
when Deacon Ambrose dragged his coat sleeve 
over the top of a particularly soft cream pie. 
His wife, with many imprecations, rushed 
him grumbling to the kitchen to wash it off 
before it “struck in.” 

“Now, Sam,” urged Uncle Seth, “if 
there’s anything you want, jest sing out.” 


SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 


41 


From the looks of his heaped-up plate the 
boy thought there could not possibly be any¬ 
thing he’d wish. “Gee, this is great,” he 
whispered to Uncle Seth. 

“Like it, do ye?” the old man smiled. 

“Yes,” agreed the boy, who was trying to 
eat, look about and listen to the conversation 
at the same time. 

“I see you’re able to take nourishment,” 
said a tall, spare man, who sat on the other 
side of Uncle Seth. 

“I take all I can git,” responded Uncle Seth. 
“Sam, let me interduce Mr. Peters. This is 
my young friend, Sam Hotchkiss. Sam, this 
is Uncle Ben Peters, one of the wust liars in 
the whole church,” he added with a chuckle. 

“I’m pleased to meet ye, young man, but I’m 
allfired sorry to see ye in sech company,” he 
cackled, in a high voice. “You probably don’t 
know Cap’n Seth as well as I do, but I could 
tell ye enough about him, if I had a mind to. 
I won’t though, for you’re young and ought 
not to hear sech things,” he cackled again and 
nudged Uncle Seth in the ribs. 

“Uncle Ben is all right,” laughed the Cap- 


42 


HEAVE SHORT 


tain, “and for a man of fifty he’s purty spry.” 

“Now don’t you let this old shellback fool 
you into thinkin’ I’m that young. I’ll tell ye 
the truth, I’m eighty-four. That’s alius one 
of Seth’s jokes, to try to make folks think I’m 
a young helter skelter of fifty.” 

Uncle Ben Peter’s statement was astounding 
to Sam, for the man was as straight as a ram¬ 
rod and carried himself in such a way that he 
could easily have passed for twenty years 
younger. Sam noticed that he ate the cold 
boiled ham and baked beans with relish, 
denying himself nothing. 

“Miss Handy,” he squeaked, to a waitress 
hurrying by, “how’s the coffee holdin’ out? 
I seem to be dryer ’n a fish.” 

“That makes your third cup, Uncle Ben,” 
she replied disapprovingly. “There’s plenty 
more, if you want to resk it” 

“I’ll resk it,” declared Uncle Ben, “and a^ 
few more hot rolls and ham too, while you’re 
about it.” 

“Won’t eatin’ so allfired much hurt ye?” 
asked Uncle Seth. 

“I don’t know, Sethie,” chuckled the old 


SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 43 

fellow, “that’s what I’m goin’ to find out. 
Pass the mustard pickles, will ye?” 

Sam thought this was quite the most unique 
party he had ever attended. He was having a 
good time listening to the good-natured banter 
flung about, and incidentally, he was eating 
all the good things that were pressed upon 
him. 

The ladies of the parish, who were attend¬ 
ing to the wants of those seated at the tables, 
seemed to feel it their duty to see that he was 
amply provided for. They called him Sam, 
just as Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Seth did, and 
thus taking him into the community family 
made the lad feel quite at home. 

“Why, Sam, you poor boy, you ain’t gettin’ 
half enough to eat,” said Mrs. Jewett, hover¬ 
ing over him. 

“I’m making it very well, thank you, Mrs. 
Jewett,” protested Sam, who had already 
eaten more than what he considered three 
men needed to satisfy their hunger. 

“Do have a piece of this custard pie,” she 
insisted, sliding a large slab of the jiggly des¬ 
sert upon his plate. 


44 


HEAVE SHORT 


“This is great pie,” declared Sam enthus¬ 
iastically, “I never tasted better, I’ll bet you 
made it yourself.” 

“Tell ye the truth, I did,” she confessed. 
“I had purty poor luck with it, though. It’s 
fair, but, if you’ll come up sometime, I’ll give 
you some pie that’s pie. ...” 

Sam thought this specimen left nothing to 
be desired and told Mrs. Jewett so, at which 
the little lady patted him on the shoulder and 
laughed delightedly. 

“You’ve made a friend of Melissey for life, 
Sam,” said Uncle Seth. “She’s a marster 
cook, but I guess the only time anybuddy ever 
praises her cookin’ is at times like this. Old 
Jerry, her husband, does nuthin’ but find fault 
all the time. You see Jerry ain’t over’n above 
fond of work and she practically supports the 
family with sewin’ and sech. Jerry is purty 
busy talkin’ at the store and waitin’ for the 
mail, so he leaves most of the work around 
their place to Melissey. He’s one of those 
fellers that’s never dry when the water pail’s 
empty.” 

Sam felt sorry for the bright-faced little 



SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 45 

woman and he determined to praise her pie 
again at the first opportunity if it would give 
her any pleasure. 

"I’ve thought I’d like to teach Jerry a lesson 
some time,” remarked Uncle Seth, “and show 
him what a blessin’ he’s got in his wife but, 

there I am talkin’ about the neighbors. If 
I could change some of ’em over, I s’pose I 
should do it, but I reckon the Almighty made 
’em as he wants ’em and it don’t behoove me 
to mess up the job none.” 

After the supper had been cleared away, the 
young folks gathered in one end of the big 
room and chattered away with such evident 
enjoyment that Uncle Seth called one of the 
boys to where he and Sam were sitting. 

“Tom, this is my friend, Sam Hotchkiss. 
This is Tom Stearns, Sam. Tom, take Sam 
over and interduce him to the young folks. 
He don’t want to stay here with us old shell¬ 
backs all the time.” 

Tom Stearns, a tall, manly-looking young 
chap, a bit older than Sam, shook hands with 
him cordially. 


46 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Sure, Uncle Seth,” he said, “HI take him 
around. Come on, Sam.” 

Tom’s conversation, which showed not quite 
the same accent as that of most of the young 
people of the village, who were prone to talk 
much as their elders did, prompted Sam to 
ask, “Do you live here all the year?” 

“Pretty nearly all the time. I am back from 
school for some of the week ends and vaca¬ 
tions.” 

“Oh, are you in school out of town?” Sam 
inquired. 

“Yes, I go to the State Agricultural Col¬ 
lege,” said Tom. 

“How does it happen that a boy from Cape 
Cod should attend an agricultural college? 
I didn’t know the Cape raised anything but 
cranberries and oysters.” 

“Guess you haven’t been around the Cape 
much,” Tom laughed. “Cape Cod is getting 
to be one of the best small-fruit areas in the 
country. We can raise anything here. I can 
show you a farm or ranch of thousands of 


SUPPER IN THE VESTRY 


47 


Sam was surprised and showed it. “How 
long have they been farming down here?” 
he asked. 

“Ever since the Portuguese convinced us 
it could be done,” answered Tom. “Yes, sir, 
they are the people who first began to set out 
large orchards and raise peaches: they are 
also the first who began raising small fruits. 
They are great gardeners, those fellows.” 

Sam met all the girls and boys and soon 
found himself talking and laughing with them 
as old acquaintances. He declared to himself, 
with surprise, that they were as jolly and 
companionable as any of his crowd back home 
in Boston. Soon they were playing games 
and Sam was having a great time. Some of 
the older people joined and when Uncle Seth 
and Uncle Ben Peters swung about in a Vir¬ 
ginia reel the fun became all the merrier. 

“Time all honest folks was abed,” an¬ 
nounced Uncle Seth, mopping his face, and 
the party broke up. 

“Did you have a good time?” asked Aunt 
Cynthia on the way home. 


48 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Bully,” said Sam. “That Tom Stearns 
is a fine chap. He is coming over and take 
me out in his flivver in a few days.” 

“You won’t find a better boy to chum 
’round with,” said Uncle Seth. “He’s had 
to earn nigh all of his money to go to college 
with. He used to go quahoggin’ and clam- 
min’, but lately he’s took to raisin’ garden 
truck and strawberries for the summer trade 
and they say he’s done real well at it. He de¬ 
clares that anybuddy can make a good livin’ 
off Cape Cod soil. His mother’s right proud 
of him. He’s gut a sister goin’ to the Normal 
school and studyin’ to be a teacher. Mis’ 
Stearns has gut a right to be proud of her two 
children.” 


CHAPTER V 
THE WOODS FIRE 

T OM Stearns was even better than his 
promise for the very next morning his 
battered old flivver rattled up to Uncle Seth’s 
gate. 

“I’ll holler to Sam,” said Aunt Cynthia 
from the doorway. “Won’t you come in, 
Tom?” 

“No thank you, Aunt Cynthia, I’ll wait 
out here.” 

“Pretty good sounding motor,” commented 
Sam, as he climbed in. 

“That’s about the only thing about the old 
boat that wasn’t cracked or something when 
I got it,” laughed Tom. “I bought it last 
fall for fifty dollars and spent my spare time 
in fixing it up. It’s handy for me to run 
around in and deliver vegetables. It was a 
mess, though, when I first got it.” 

49 


50 


HEAVE SHORT 


They sped along the smooth Cape roads 
and Tom pointed out spots of interest. Sam 
had never ridden about very much on Cape 
Cod but had confined his pleasures to Saquoit, 
so it was all new to him. 

“See that farm,” said Tom, as a broad field 
came into view. “That’s one of our good 
ones. They go in for stock mostly. Perhaps 
all this farm business will bore you, but I’m 
so doggoned interested in it that I think every 
one else must be.” 

“Oh, no, I won’t be bored,” asserted Sam. 
“I find I’m interested in a whole lot of things 
since I first came to the Cape. Do you know, 
when I first found out that we were coming 
to Saquoit last summer, I had an awful 
grouch, but it didn’t take Uncle Seth two 
days to make me forget it. I had such a good 
time that I would hate to think of going any¬ 
where else for the summer.” 

“No, it wouldn’t take Uncle Seth long to 
cure a grouch,” laughed Tom. “You couldn’t 
be in the dumps where he is. I’m very fond 
of him and Aunt Cynthia. They are mighty 
good to Mother while I’m away during the 



THE WOODS FIRE 


51 


winter. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for 
those two. 

“There’s a Portuguese farm,” he continued. 
“See those peach trees. They’ll be loaded in 
a couple of months.” 

Sam knew nothing about peaches, except 
that they came in baskets, but the trees were 
pretty, and, even to his unpractised eye 
looked thrifty. Rows and rows of them with 
their tender green leaves, small at this time 
of the year, stretched away along the hill side. 

“That looks like a fire,” he said, pointing 
to a cloud of smoke which hung over the 
crest of the low hill. 

“By George, it does,” said Tom, slowing 
down. “That looks as though it was over 
Masonville way. Guess we’d better find out 
about it.” 

Tom turned the auto into a side road and 
soon they came upon a small house where Tom 
telephoned the fire warden of the town. 

“It is in Masonville, just as I thought,” he 
said, as he backed around. 

“Are you going?” asked Sam. 

“Sure, I’m going.” 


52 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Why are you going back this way?” asked 
Sam, for the fire was in the opposite direc¬ 
tion. 

“I’m going back to Saquoit and get some 
different clothes and one thing and another,” 
he answered. 

Tom was giving his whole attention to the 
road, for, in making time, the little car 
cavorted madly about until they got upon the 
main road again. “There,” he said, “this is 
better going. Say, Sam, has Uncle Seth told 
you anything about the new shellfish company 
they’ve started?” 

“Yes, he has,” answered Sam, “and it has 
him bothered. He is such a generous old chap 
he doesn’t want his friends to lose any money. 
He doesn’t know for sure that the thing is 
a fake, but has a hunch that it is. I am in 
hopes that Father can suggest something we 
can do. I’ve written him about it.” 

“That was a good idea, Sam,” said Tom. 
“I’d like to help, but we want to keep quiet 
about it so Hastings and his partner won’t 
know we are against him.” 

“Here we are,” cried Sam as they stopped 


THE WOODS FIRE 53 

at Captain Nickerson’s. “I’ll hustle and get 
into my old clothes.” 

“Put on the oldest you have,” called Tom. 

“I don’t see the need of it, I can watch a fire 
just as well in these clothes.” 

“Watch it!” exclaimed Tom. “Why, man 
alive, you’re going to fight it and from the 
looks of the smoke piling up over there we 
won’t have any cinch.” 

Sam rushed into the house and in a few 
moments returned dressed in his fishing rig. 

“There, that’s better. Now, we’ll drive 
around by my house and I can change up.” 

“I didn’t have any idea we were going to 
fight the fire. Up home you can’t get any¬ 
where near the fire. The department does 
all the fighting.” 

“Every able-bodied man is part of our de¬ 
partment,” laughed Tom, jumping out of the 
auto and rushing into the house. “Run in the 
barn and get some shovels,” he called from 
the doorway. 

“Shovels,” said Sam to himself, thoroughly; 
mystified. “What on earth does he want of 
shovels?” 


54 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Good bye, Mother,” called Tom, as he 
dashed from the house. 

“Good bye, son, be careful now,” said Mrs. 
Stearns, coming out to the car. 

“This is Sam Hotchkiss, Mother. He’s 
staying at Uncle Seth’s.” 

“Oh yes, you were there last summer, 
weren’t you?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Stearns.” 

“You must come over some time, Sam. 
Now, be careful, both of you.” 

“What on earth do you take the shovels 
for?” asked Sam, who couldn’t connect garden 
tools with woods fires. 

“We’ll use them to beat out the flames with. 
You’ll see when we get there. Gee! look at 
that smoke roll up,” said Tom. 

The sound of automobile horns interrupted 
the conversation and two large touring cars, 
filled with men, roared by them. Sam saw 
that they, too, carried shovels. 

“Fellows are turning out pretty well,” re¬ 
marked Tom, as he opened the throttle wider. 
“Been awful dry for a month, and now some 
blamed fool has dropped a cigarette in the 


THE WOODS FIRE 


55 


woods and set ’em going like tinder. Not 
any very big stuff growing in these woods, but 
the fire sweeps along so fast, in this southwest 
wind, that it will hit some of those farm 
houses before we know it.” 

“You have been through this thing before, 
have you, Tom?” asked Sam. 

“You bet I have,” said he, as he steered 
by a pair of horses attached to a farm 
wagon. 

“They must be very choice of that plow 
they have in the wagon,” laughed Sam. 
“They are hurrying as though they want to 
get it out of the danger zone.” 

“That’s a part of the fire apparatus,” ex¬ 
plained Tom. “They plow furrows ahead 
of the fire, and unless the wind is pretty 
strong, the fire is checked when it comes to 
the open furrows. They have to do all kinds 
of things. Lucky the Saquoit river runs so 
near. That may help.” 

They were now in the blackened area 
and presently Tom stopped the flivver and 
hopped out remarking, “Here’s where we get 
off.” 


56 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Can’t we drive along further?” asked Sam. 
“There isn’t any fire here to fight” 

“I don’t want to get on the other side of the 
wind and have the old boat burn up. This is 
safe because there’s nothing left here to burn,” 
said Tom. 

The boys seized their implements and ran 
off down the road in the direction of the 
clouds of smoke. 

“Hold on, Sam,” panted Tom. “What’s 
your hurry?” 

“Why, I thought we wanted to get there 
as soon as we could,” answered Sam. 

“Sure, we do, but the real fire is probably 
quite a way off and we don’t want to get 
winded so we won’t be able to fight once we 
get there. This will be a long job, unless 
the wind shifts or it rains, and we shall need 
all the endurance we have,” explained Tom. 

They advanced at a more leisurely pace 
and Tom explained further the general 
method of dealing with woods fires. He told 
Sam of how they back fired to check the rush¬ 
ing flames and the danger of being caught, if 


THE WOODS FIRE 


57 


a person were between the back fire and the 
original fire line. 

“You see, Sam,” Tom went on, “the ground 
is decayed vegetable matter for quite a depth 
and this burns like peat for weeks sometimes 
unless it is stopped by heavy rains. Some¬ 
times, we think it is all out, then it breaks 
forth again. That’s why men patrol the 
woods for days after a fire is supposed to be 
cold.” 

“How about the look-out towers on the hills 
with their maps of the country?” asked Sam. 
“I visited the one on Shootflying Hill last 
summer and their scheme of laying off the 
country into zones was great.” 

“They help a pile,” agreed Tom. “Fires 
are discovered earlier and the telephone can 
do wonders. Woods fires well started are 
cruel things. It’s all so needless, too, for they 
are generally set by some ninny who drives by 
and throws a lighted match or a cigarette butt 
into bushes at the side of the road.” 

The two boys could now get glimpses of the 
flames shooting up the pitch-filled pine trees, 


58 


HEAVE SHORT 


and figures, indistinct through the smoke, 
beating with spades or brush. Men were 
running here and there and their shouting ex¬ 
cited the boys to hurry along. 

“I guess here’s where we begin,” said Tom. 
“Let’s find out for sure, if they want us to 
start with this gang.” 

“Jump in here, boys,” wheezed a man, who 
was beating the flames with a bough. 

A pail half full of water stood nearby. 
Tom dipped his handkerchief in this water 
and bound it about his nose and mouth, tying 
it in the back. Sam followed suit. 

“Now, at it, boy,” yelled Tom. 

The air was full of flying sparks and cin¬ 
ders. The ground felt hot to Sam’s feet as he 
smashed away with a will. With a roar 
flames would rush to the top of a pine tree, 
dry and inflammable as gun powder. Trees 
were falling all around the two boys. The 
flames were extinguished in one spot, only to 
break forth somewhere else. Frantically the 
men and boys toiled. 

Sam exulted in the contest. His teeth were 
set with determination to win against the piti- 


THE WOODS FIRE 


59 


less foe. He began to think of the fire as a 
wild beast to be subdued, as he scuffed and 
smashed at the flames. 

“You will, will you,” he gasped, as he beat 
out a tongue of flame creeping near a fine 
young tree. 

For the first time in his life he realized the 
menace of fire. Hitherto he had thought of 
a fire as an interesting thing to watch, but now, 
he had a different feeling. He thought of 
the small farm buildings in its path where 
perhaps the children were anxiously watch¬ 
ing the brave mother packing up her most 
precious keepsakes. 

“You’re a bear cat, no mistake,” grunted a 
man near him, who was going at it more 
slowly and making every blow tell. 

Sam studied this man’s method and found 
that he was wearing himself out needlessly 
and calmed down a bit. 

“Here, over here,” yelled Tom, who was 
combating a new burst of flames in a fresh 
section. Sam ran over and together they beat 
at the flames. 

The handkerchiefs were dry by this time 


60 


HEAVE SHORT 


and they dipped them in the luke warm water 
and went at it again. What a blessed feeling 
that wet handkerchief was I 

A truck load of fire fighters now drove up 
and with the added crew Sam and Tom felt 
fresh courage. They skirted farther along 
the edge of the fire line. Tiny flames that 
amounted to nothing, at first, burst into a roar¬ 
ing, blistering heat. 

Both boys had fought along the fire line 
so far that the other men were left behind. 
With desperation they struggled, scrambling 
about over the roots and stumps. So absorbed 
were they in exterminating the enemy that 
they worked around and met the flames as 
they advanced. 

“Gee, Sam,” Tom gasped, as one leg sank 
in the porous ground beside a small tree trunk. 

Sam reached to help him up but Tom 
groaned and fell back. His foot was caught 
fast under a root. 

“I guess I’ve hurt my ankle,” said Tom, 
and his face blanched. 

Sam began to dig frantically around the 
foot. 


THE WOODS FIRE 


61 


“Back fire! Back fire!” came the cry from 
the rear. Sam remembered what Tom had 
told him about a back fire being started to 
meet the original fire after plowing the fur¬ 
rows. The flames were creeping nearer and 
nearer from the front, and soon the air at the 
back became smoky, and Sam knew for a 
certainty that a fire was closing in on them 
from that quarter. 

The first thing to do was to extricate Tom’s 
foot. Sam dug and shovelled. He tried 
pulling the foot but Tom grunted with pain. 

What should he do? Yell for help? The 
noise of the crackling flames would drown 
out any feeble attempt of his to be heard. He 
must get Tom out himself. 

He thought of Uncle Seth and the many 
experiences he had related of men who got 
out of tight places. “They could do it. I 
can do it,” said Sam to himself, as he strug¬ 
gled. 

The foot came free. 

“Qlory be!” muttered Sam. 

Sam helped Tom regain his feet, or rather 
foot, for his injured member would not bear 




62 


HEAVE SHORT 


his weight. With his arm around his com¬ 
panion he started. Which way should he go? 
He felt Tom a dead weight. He had fainted. 
It was no mean weight, but Sam, with the 
strength which often comes to persons in des¬ 
peration, dragged him on. He saw a place 
ahead where the flames seemed to be advanc¬ 
ing more slowly. Dragging Tom toward 
this, he laid him down and beat at the flames 
to make an avenue of escape. He knew better 
than to try the backward path for the back 
fire was burning fiercely. Here was the line 
of attack for him to follow. 

Smash! Thud! his spade thrashed at the 
enemy. 

Sam’s breath came in short choking gasps. 
Oh, for a swallow of that lukewarm water. 
His foot hit against metal. It was the pail 
in which they had dipped their handkerchiefs. 
Thank God, the men had forgotten it! There 
was a little in the bottom of the pail. He 
raised his pail to his lips and then he paused. 
No! that might revive Tom. The hot, smoke- 
filled air might have injured him and besides 
he was hurt. What was he thinking of? He 


THE WOODS FIRE 


63 


was all right. Tom was the one that needed 
the water. With staring eyes which felt stiff 
and unnatural, he lifted the pail and allowed 
the water to trickle over his companion’s face. 
Tom’s eyes fluttered open and he struggled 
to get to his feet. 

“Steady, Tom,” cautioned Sam. “Can you 
stand on one foot? I’ll help you.” 

Sam placed his arms under the other boy 
and drew him upon his back. Half dragging 
and half carrying Tom, heavier than him¬ 
self, he passed through the avenue of safety 
that he had made, out to the charred 
ground, hot to his feet. 

Could he make the road? His knees were 
strangely weak and uncertain. He dragged 
on, a step at a time, with the limp burden upon 
his back. Sam gritted his teeth and hitched 
along. He scarcely knew which way to go 
but his befogged senses told him straight 
ahead. 

He thought he heard shouting which 
sounded like cheers and at that moment he 
felt some rain drops upon his head. That was 
it; the rain had come to quench the fire. Sam 


64 


HEAVE SHORT 


didn’t care much. It was this load that 
bothered him. What was it? Oh, yes, he 
remembered it was Tom, and he must keep on. 

A few of the fire fighters, who had been re¬ 
lieved from duty, as the fire was now under 
control, saw a staggering figure with another 
figure limp upon his back, making his way 
slowly and stumblingly along. Both faces 
were blackened, the eyebrows and hair singed. 

Sam was relieved of that terrible load which 
had been bearing him down for so long and 
then there was a jolting: the air blew across 
his face, blessed, cool air. He was being car¬ 
ried into Uncle Seth’s yard. 


CHAPTER VI 
STRATEGY 

I N two days Sam was none the worse for 
his experience and was able to be with 
Uncle Seth working on the new boat. Tom’s 
ankle mended rapidly and though he limped, 
he kept about. 

“Who is this chap you are building the boat 
for, Uncle Seth?” asked Sam, as they rubbed 
away with sandpaper, smoothing the surface 
of the cat boat. 

“I tell ye, Sam,” said the old man, “every 
single feller that has seen this boat has asked 
me the same question. They are all jest as 
curious about it as a cat about a live lobster. 
I ain’t told ’em, jest because they are so cu¬ 
rious and I ain’t goin’ to tell you yit, ’cause if 
you don’t know you can tell folks so honestly, 
when they ask you about it.” 

“They won’t ask me about it,” said Sam. 

65 


66 


HEAVE SHORT 


“They won’t?” grinned the old man. 
“That shows you don’t know ’em. They’ll 
do it jest as sure as the world. It don’t really 
make a bit of difference whether they know 
or not, but sence they want to find out so much, 
I’m goin’ to be mean and not tell ’em.” 

Sam felt a little peeved that Uncle Seth 
wouldn’t trust him with a secret, but he tried 
not to show it and said, “All right, Uncle 
Seth, it doesn’t matter.” 

“That feller Hastings was around to see 
me again yesterday,” remarked the old Cap¬ 
tain. 

“Wanted you to sell your grant, I suppose, 
and buy stock in the company,” said Sam. 

“Sartin,” returned Uncle Seth blandly. 
“Told me I was missin’ the opportunity of a 
lifetime and so on. He also hinted that I 
was considerbul moss covered,” he chuckled. 

Sam stopped his work and his eyes blazed. 
“Why didn’t you kick him out, Uncle Seth? 
I’d like to club him. Did you order him out 
of the shop?” 

“No, no, Sam,” said the old man smiling, 


STRATEGY 


. 67 

“you don’t think that would have been real 
polite, do ye?” 

“Polite, be hanged!” exploded the boy. 
“I just wish I could have him ridden out of 
town. He makes me mad clear through, 
down here trying to get your grants away 
from you and get the little savings of the peo¬ 
ple. If I was in your place I’d have shown 
him where he got off.” 

“Now, Sam,” said Uncle Seth gently, “jest 
how do you think any sech measures as you 
suggest would help git at the bottom of things. 
I don’t know for sure that all this promotin’ 
ain’t all above board. I don’t think it is, but 
how do I know? I’m aimin’ to do all I can, 
but I want to hear all the feller has to say 
and see if I can’t git him some other way than 
maulin’ him over the head with a marlin 
spike. What is it they call it? Strategy, 
yes, that’s it. 

“I remember a mare Wen Holbrook traded 
for once,” he continued. “She was as purty 
a little mare as you ever see. She was sleek 
and mild lookin’ as a kitten. The feller he 


68 


HEAVE SHORT 


gut her of said she was quicker’n a pickerel; 
you couldn’t spit on her, she was so quick. 
Wal, after Wen had her a couple er days he 
found out that she was quick when she wanted 
to be, and when she didn’t, she wouldn’t move 
at all. Balky, that’s the long and short of it. 

“Wen knowed he was stuck. Over on the 
river road one day she jest stopped and looked 
’round at Wen kinder meek like, but with a: 
look in her eye that said f Wal, what are ye 
goin’ to do about it?’ 

“Now Wen was a hoss trader and knew all 
the kinks of the business, includin’ what to do 
for balky hosses. He touched the mare up a 
leetle with the whip but it done no good. 
If he’d been like some fellers he’d have got 
mad and whaled that hoss but he didn’t do 
that. He jest hitched the mare to a tree that 
was right beside of her and started and walked 
home. 

“I reckon the mare thought that was the 
funniest sort of a chap she’d ever run up 
against She’d been used to the rarin’ kind 
that built fires under her and all sech fol- 
derol. 


STRATEGY 


69 


“After a while Wen come back and had 
one of them old fashioned telephones that 
you ring by turnin’ a crank. He put that on 
the floor of the buggy and took a wire and 
scrapin’ one end of it hitched it to the mare’s 
ear. Then he run it back and bent it on the 
telephone. He took another wire and hitched 
that onto the thick of her tail and run that 
back to the instrument. 

“You know, one of them telephones has a 
generator or whatever you call it and when 
you turn the crank there’s considerbul of a 
shock cornin’ to the feller that has holt of 
wires runnin’ out from it jest right. 

“Wal, suh,” laughed the Captain, “I reckon 
when Wen clucked to the mare and she 
wouldn’t budge he was grinnin’ some to him¬ 
self. He jest reached down and give the crank 
a twist and Jimmynetty! warn’t that mare 
surprised. That was the most curious ticklin’ 
she’d ever had, I reckon. She begun to take 
an interest in life right away. He clucked 
to her again nice and quiet but she hadn’t 
had enough, so he give quite a long turn to 
the crank this time. 


70 


HEAVE SHORT 


“She begun to sidle ’round to see what the 
Sam Hill was causin’ all them funny little 
feelin’s to be caperin’ the whole length of her. 
She didn’t like it real well. 

“About the third er fourth whirrin’ of that 
telephone and she decided to do as he told 
her, and git ap, and she never had a notion 
of stoppin’ till she gut into the barn. 

“Didn’t she ever balk after that?” asked 
Sam, laughing. 

“She tried it after that, once or twice, but 
all Wen had to do was to reach down and 
whirr that crank, without any wires nor noth¬ 
in’ hitched to her and she’d remember and go 
right along about her business. She made 
him a mighty fine drivin’ horse, didn’t need 
no whirrin’ nor nothin’. 

“Now, Sam, that was goin’ about a job with 
strategy. It’s all right to git haired up and 
have fireworks if that’s the best way to handle 
a thing, but lots of times it don’t do any good 
and you don’t git what you’re after.” 

“You think, then, that we ought to use 
strategy with this man Hastings, Uncle Seth?” 
asked Sam. 


STRATEGY 


71 


“Sartin’ I do,” answered the old man 
promptly. 

“But there isn’t anything we can do. I 
wish I could hear from Father. It’s time I 
got a letter. I don’t see a thing we can do 
with this promoter except bounce on him 
hard, and, as you say, that won’t do any good. 
Why don’t you let it all go? What’s the 
use?” 

“Sam,” began Uncle Seth, grinning quiz¬ 
zically, “I’ll have to tell you about Debby 
Scudder, Jacob Scudder’s wife. Debby be¬ 
lieved in lettin’ things take their course. 
Foller the line of least resistance was her 
motto. If there was too many difficulties 
about doin’ Monday’s wash she’d wait till 
Tuesday, and if on Tuesday sunthin’ come up 
to dampen her courage, she’d wait another day 
and so on. She wasn’t shiftless in particular, 
but jest hadn’t a mite of courage to tackle 
anything that was a trifle harder than she 
was accustomed to. 

“Wal, Jacob needed quite a lot of en¬ 
couragement, but he didn’t git it to home, I 
tell ye. Everything he undertook she was 


72 


HEAVE SHORT 


alius throwin’ cold water on it and sayin’ he 
ought not to tackle it. Now among Jacob’s 
other afflictions he had asthma once in a 
while so’s it bothered him to work around, he 
was so short breathed. 

“One day he come into the house and 
slumped down in a chair wheezin’ and sighin’, 
all beat out, poor critter. 

“ ‘Oh, Debby,’ says he, ‘it don’t seem as 
though I could take another breath.’ 

“‘Wal, Jacob,’ says Debby, ‘I wouldn’t 
try.’ ” 

“That’s a good one,” laughed Sam. “I see 
what you mean, all right, but after all, what 
can we do?” 

“I’ll tell ye, Sam, I mean to be jest as 
pleasant to that feller Hastings as can be. If 
I can keep him guessin’, jest as he’s kept me, 
why that’ll be the thing. What we’ll do after 
that depends sunthin’ on what your father 
writes. He knows about corporations and 
sech and I’ll bank a good deal on his say so. 
About those things I’m as ignorant as time. 
I’ve gut only one idea about these ’ere stock 
companies and that is that they’re out to git 


STRATEGY 


73 


suckers. While they’ll try to make ye believe 
they’ve gut a tender feelin’ for ye and want ye 
to make lots er money and git rich quick, I 
can’t help feelin’ all the time that they are 
sunthin’ like Abe Scannell. 

“Abe lives all alone with a yaller dog and 
in the cold winter weather Abe lets the dog 
sleep in the bed with him. 

“ ‘Yer see,’ says Abe, ‘that fool dog thinks 
he’s gittin’ warm along side of me in bed, but 
I’m playin’ it on him good, instid of gittin’ 
warm himself, he’s warmin’ me all the time.’ ’* 


CHAPTER VII 


THE CAPTURE 

I T was a week after the fire. Sam was com¬ 
ing out of the post office when Tom drove 
up. 

“See here, Sam,” he called. “I hear 
there were things happening at the fire that 
we didn’t know anything about. The fire 
swept over several stills in the woods and they 
blew up. We didn’t hear the explosions, but 
they came just the same. They have rounded 
up the fellows who were running the stills 
and they are in Bainrich jail. They come up 
for trial today. Let’s go over and see the ex¬ 
citement.” 

Tom and Sam were now fast friends, though 
Tom didn’t at all take Uncle Seth’s place as 
a companion, for his farming took most of his 
time. Tom and his mother, both, had made 
a great fuss, so Sam called it, about Sam drag- 
74 


THE CAPTURE 


75 


ging Tom out of the fire line to safety. Mrs. 
Stearns invited him up to supper and talked 
about it all the time. Sam could not help 
liking Tom’s mother, but he did wish she 
wouldn’t make such a stir over what he had 
done. 

“All right, wait till I tell Uncle Seth,” said 
Sam. 

“Ask him to come along, too,” called Tom. 

“Sure, I’ll come with you fellers,” said 
Uncle Seth, “Cynthy has gone over to Mason- 
ville with Mis’ Davis and her son in their 
automobile, and said we’d have to keep bach¬ 
elor’s hall and get our own dinner. We’ll git 
dinner somewhere on the road instead. I’ve 
been wantin’ to see how much that forest fire 
burned over.” 

“You know, Uncle Seth,” said Tom, “I’ve 
a hunch that that fire was set.” 

“Mebbe it was, Tom,” said the old man, 
“but tell me why in the world a man would 
want to set fire to scrub pine and red oak. It 
ain’t good for much, to be sure, but what 
would anybuddy want to burn it up for?” 

“Some things that I have heard make me 


76 


HEAVE SHORT 


think that it was set, jest the same,” persisted 
Tom. 

“If you know anything, Tom, it’s kinder 
your duty to tell about it, ain’t it?” asked 
Uncle Seth. 

“If I knew anything, yes. I don’t know; 
but, as I said, I have a hunch that if I was 
going to try to find out who set that fire, I’d 
watch any fellow that was specially keen on 
deer hunting.” 

“Why, Tom,” broke in Sam, “what in the 
world has deer hunting to do with burning 
over the woods? It’s close time on the deer, 
anyway, isn’t it?” 

“There’s about a week open in the year, 
and, more than that, Uncle Seth and I know 
well enough that there’s plenty of deer shoot¬ 
ing all the fall and winter on the sly. They 
hunt deer with dogs and use shot guns. If a 
warden sees them in the woods with guns and 
dogs they explain that they are after rabbits/* 

“That’s right, Sam,” corroborated Uncle 
Seth. “It’s a mean way to go after a deer, 
with dogs. The deer doesn’t have much of a 
chance and with shot guns and buck shot there 


THE CAPTURE 


77 


must be a lot of ’em wounded that the hunters 
don’t kill. Purty harsh sport, I call it.” 

“I don’t understand yet, why the fire had 
anything to do with shooting,” protested Sam. 

“You see, Sam,” explained Tom, “after the 
wood is burned over the tender young shoots 
spring up, rank: nature’s way of redecorat¬ 
ing the place. Didn’t you ever notice how 
green the grass is after a piece of grassland 
has been burned over? Well, that’s the 
way it is in the woods. The ashes act as 
fertilizer, and it isn’t but a little while be¬ 
fore the dark burned ground is covered with 
the brightest green, and the tenderest young 
shoots, that make rich feed for the deer and 
it calls them into that section.” 

“Oh, I see, it is about the same as decoys 
for birds,” said Sam. 

“Jest about the same,” said Uncle Seth. 
“I don’t have much use for either one. I 
couldn’t shoot a deer any more than I could 
a young child. Did ye ever see a deer wild 
in the woods, Sam?” 

“No, I never did.” 

“Wal, they’re about the purtiest thing that 


78 


HEAVE SHORT 


ever travelled, ain’t they, Tom? There’s a 
lot of ’em on Cape Cod, and like as not you’ll 
run on to some in your cruises about. When 
you see deer leapin’ and runnin’ and wavin’ 
their white flag—” 

“Now, you’re joking, Uncle Seth,” laughed 
Sam. 

“No,” said Tom, “that’s right; when they 
run, they flip up their little stub of a tail and 
the under side is white.” 

“Sort of a flag of truce, isn’t it?” said Sam. 

“Yes,” said Uncle Seth. “Only folks don’t 
respect it. I declare, the feller that was mean 
enough to fire a piece of woods in order to 
decoy deer in here in the fall, is mean enough 
to skin a muskeeter for his hide and taller.” 

“Here’s a cross road that will go through 
the woods and take us pretty near where the 
fire was,” remarked Tom, as he turned the 
car. 

About a half mile along this road, they 
came to the edge of the burned piece and the 
furrows that had stopped the progress of the 
flames. Tom stopped the car, and they all 
looked silently at the cruel devastation. The 


THE CAPTURE 


79 


contrast was marked; the rich green and, 
bordering that, the blackened area with the 
stumps of what were growing trees, now 
charred and ugly. 

Suddenly Sam turned and whispered to his 
companions, “Look over there, quick.” 

The car had stopped behind a small clump 
of bushes. As Sam pointed, a wisp of white 
smoke rose, a hundred yards or so in from 
the road, in the unburned area; and they saw 
indistinctly through the growth the figure of 
a man moving stealthily about. 

“The sun of a gun,” muttered Sam, as he 
jumped from the auto, with Tom close at his 
heels. 

“What ye aimin’ to do?” whispered Uncle 
Seth. 

“Go get him,” whispered back both boys. 

Uncle Seth climbed out of the car with 
surprising agility. “Guess I’d better take a 
hand in this fracas,” he chuckled. “You boys 
stay back of me,” said he, as he picked up a 
fence stake. 

“You go around the other side of him, Uncle 
Seth,” said Sam, who thought the old man 


80 


HEAVE SHORT 


might get hurt, if he boldly approached the 
fire brand. 

They had crouched low during the con¬ 
ference. 

“What, me go around in back of a feller, 
Sam? That ain’t the way I was brought up. 
The feller that is skunk enough to set a woods 
fire is a coward, in the fust place, you can 
bank on that; and even if he warn’t, I reckon 
I’ve gut a few whallops I’d jest like to land 
on him,” and the old fellow’s eyes blazed in 
anger. 

“He’s sure to run when he sees you coming,” 
said Tom, “and if somebody goes around him, 
they can most likely head him off.” 

“Then you fellers do the runnin’ ’round, 
I ain’t so spry runnin’ as I was once,” said 
the Captain. 

Tom and Sam started off up the road and 
ran like deer; and when they judged they had 
gone far enough, they ran at right angles, mak¬ 
ing but little noise over the carpet of pine 
needles. 

“Here’s another road,” panted Tom. 
“Runs parallel to the one we were on.” 



‘ Lie still thar, ye swab; or I’ll bump this 

here agin yer head.” 







THE CAPTURE 


81 


“There’s an auto,” said Sam. 

“I’ll bet it belongs to that fellow,” said 
Tom. 

There seemed very little doubt of it, so they 
quickly took out the spark plugs and hid them 
on the ground. They did no more, wishing 
to make haste, for they felt sure Uncle Seth 
would have a hard time if the fire bug started 
to be nasty. 

On they ran. No shouts came to them 
through the woods—no running footsteps nor 
crackling of twigs. What if he had killed 
Uncle Seth, went through the minds of both 
boys. 

Sam gritted his teeth and vowed if any harm 
had come to the old man, that he would hunt 
the villain down and kill him with his own 
hands. He pictured himself slowly choking 
the murderer, as he clenched his fists and ran 
on. 

“Was that a cry for help?” panted Tom. 

“We’re coming, Uncle Seth,” Sam shouted. 

The yelling now came to them more dis¬ 
tinctly. “Lie still thar, ye swab; or I’ll bump 
this here agin yer head.” 


82 HEAVE SHORT 

The boys sprang into the thin growth; and 
there was Uncle Seth sitting astride a squirm¬ 
ing figure, wielding the fence stake and 
flourishing it about. 

“Oh, here ye be,” he grinned. “Didn’t 
know but what you’d gut scared and run off. 
Ketch hold of this feller’s legs, or I swan I’ll 
have to lambaste him some more. As old a 
sailor as I be, he bumps around so it fairly 
makes me sea sick.” 

Sam sprang in a nose dive for the kicking 
feet of the under man, and Uncle Seth arose 
with the remark, “Thar now, you’re goin’ to 
answer some purty p’inted questions. Who be 
ye, and where do you hail from?” There was 
no response from the captive. “I had to hit 
him purty hard to keep him quiet while I 
put out the fire,” he apologized, “but the dog- 
goned fool was so persistent in wantin’ to run 
off, that I had to lay him out: and swear, don’t 
talk, how that feller did swear! He was most 
as bad as Lem Stoddard over to Masonville, 
only he wasn’t nigh so awkward about it; he’s 
had practice, this bird has.” 


THE CAPTURE 


83 


“What’ll we do with him, Uncle Seth?” 
asked Sam. 

“Take him along with us to the courthouse. 
Reckon we can make it a real nice leetle 
party,” chuckled the old sailor. 

“I ain’t had such a good time as this 
sence,—” 

What had been his previous good time, was 
cut short by the snarls of the prisoner. 

“Youse ain’t gut no right to take me to 
court, youse ain’t no sheriff, now let me go 
you old—” 

“Shet up,” hollered the old Captain, rap¬ 
ping him smartly with the fence stake. 
“There’s my authority, right here in this 
club.” The boys looked wonderingly and a 
little fearfully thinking that perhaps the old 
seaman had gotten himself in a bad hole. 

“Accordin’ to law, any man has a right to 
arrest another when he’s committin’ a crime, 
and, if you warn’t committin’ one, I never see 
anybuddy that was. I have a good notion to 
take the law right inter my own hands.” 

“Youse ain’t gut no warrant for arrestin’ 





84 


HEAVE SHORT 


me, and youse know it,” yelled the man. “I 
warn’t doin’ a t’ing but cookin’ my breakfast.” 

“I reckon the warrant will be forthcomin’ 
when we git over to the jail and I tell my 
story. Don’t yer fret about the warrant. If 
I thought there was ary chance of your gittin’ 
clear, I’d maul ye right now so you couldn’t 
tell yer face from a rump steak.” 

Sam, to whom Uncle Seth was the mildest 
of old men, stared with open mouth to think 
Uncle Seth could roar and bang a man over 
the head with such abandon. He remem¬ 
bered, though, that the old man had been a 
whaler in his day; and no doubt had men far 
more desperate among his crews than this 
creature. 

“You fellers can git up now. I’ve gut my 
wind and if he starts to so much as wiggle an 
ear, I’ll fix him all up nice fer the coroner 
to take charge of.” 

“Tom, you run over to your car and git a 
piece or two er rope ter truss this ’ere critter 
up with.” 

“There is a car over on the other road,” 
said Sam. “Perhaps that belongs to him.” 


THE CAPTURE 


85 


“Don’t you touch that car,” yelled the 
prisoner, “that’s mine.” 

“Whang!” went the club; and further 
speech was just grunts and gurgles. 

“Ain’t quite tamed yit, be ye? I guess I’ll 
gag ye and done with it. Oh, here’s the rope. 
Now, boys, you tie him up as I tell ye; and, 
if he starts to cut up, I’ll jest quiet him with 
this.” When the ropes were adjusted to the 
old man’s satisfaction, he placed a gag in the 
prisoner’s mouth and tied it securely behind 
his ears. 

“Thar now, I guess ye won’t be sayin’ so 
many naughty things,” he grinned. “I’ve left 
him warp enough so’t he can walk, if he don’t 
take too long steps. Forrud march.” 

“How about his car?” asked Sam. 

“That’s so. We ought to take that along 
too. I can’t drive one of the things. I 
wouldn’t know her jib boom from her spanker, 
and like as not she’d jibe with me.” 

“I can drive most any car, Uncle Seth,” 
said Sam. 

“Wal, go ahead: we’ll meet ye out at the 
main road.” 


86 


HEAVE SHORT 


Sam replaced the spark plugs, and tried the 
self starter. It was in good order. “Quite a 
boat,” remarked Sam to himself, as he threw 
it into gear and sped down the woods road. 
As he turned into the main highway, he let 
her out, for he looked back in vain for Tom’s 
car. 

“Must have beat me to it,” he thought, 
“I’ll see what she’ll do.” 

He had but little time to “see what she 
would do,” for, at a turn in the road ahead, 
a man holding a double barrel shot gun to 
his shoulder stepped out of the bushes, and 
throwing open his vest showed a nickel star 
the size of a small saucer. 

“Stop, in the name of the law,” he yelled. 

Sam applied the brakes, and stopped. 
“Pinched for speeding,” he thought. 

“Naow, yew put them hands of you’rn up; 
and, by godfreys grapevine! yew keep ’em up 
tew; I’m goin’ to search yew for congealed 
weapins.” 

“I haven’t any weapons—” Sam began. 

“Yew don’t pull anything like that on 
Azariah Jackson: yew may have fooled them 


THE CAPTURE 


87 


Boston policemen, but don’t yew try any 
of yer tricks on me, or I’ll fill yew so full er 
buck shot ye’d make a ballast fer a schooner.” 

“Who do you think I am?” asked Sam, who 
was beginning to get anxious about the man’s 
sanity. 

“Don’t yew fret about who ye be. I know 
ye, though I thought yew was older. Sheriff 
over ter Bainrich gut the number and de¬ 
scription of yer car and all about it. Yer game 
is up, Mister Herman Lewis, or whatever yer 
called yerself last.” 

“That isn’t my name and I don’t know—” 

“That’ll be all of that. Didn’t carry no 
gun. Thought you didn’t need it, eh, down 
here among the hicks. Yew didn’t reckon on 
runnin’ up agin yours truly,” he cackled. 

“We’ll take all these things along,” he said, 
doing up Sam’s pocket book and watch in a 
piece of paper bag, and stowing the package 
away in his hip pocket. 

“Naow where was yew aimin’ fer, when I 
hauled ye up?” he asked. 

“County jail,” answered Sam, and he 
couldn’t help grinning. 


88 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Jail!” the constable ejaculated, his mouth 
agape, “wal, Mister Smarty, heh! heh! heh! 
yew can keep right on the way, and I’ll ride 
along with ye. Only don’t forget this, I’ve 
gut a gun p’inted right where yew digest yer 
victuals, and there’s likely to be sunthin’ hap¬ 
pen, if you cut up any gum games.” 

When they arrived at the court house there 
was quite a crowd in front. Sam looked about 
in vain for Uncle Seth and Tom, but they 
were nowhere in sight. He begun to feel 
decidedly uncomfortable. 

“I’ve gut him,” announced the constable 
to the assembled crowd. “I’ve gut my man. 
I never went arter ary a one that I didn’t 
fetch in, yit,” he bragged. “Whar’s Sheriff 
EBarnes?” 

With the gun pointing in the middle of his 
back, Sam was propelled up the steps of the 
old building with every eye upon him. He 
felt that his face was the color of an overripe 
tomato. 

“Why, he’s nothing but a boy,” one man in 
the crowd said. “They certainly come young 
nowadays.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE REWARD 

BOUT the time Sam was being locked 



XTL in a cell in the old county jail, Uncle 
Seth and Tom, with their prisoner, drove up 
to the courthouse. 

“There’s Sam’s car,” remarked Uncle Seth, 
as he opened the tonneau door to assist the 
prisoner to alight. “He beat us to it. I 
thought that puncture of our’n would fix it so’s 
he would git here ahead of us, but I didn’t 
know but he would wait on the main road.” 

The old Captain and Tom sought out the 
high sheriff, and found him in his office re¬ 
ceiving a report from one Azariah Jackson, 
constable, who had intercepted Sam a half 
hour before. 

“Yes, suh, Sheriff,” he was saying, as Uncle 
Seth and Tom waited at the open door, “he 
was as desperate and cool headed a criminal 


90 


HEAVE SHORT 


as it ever wuz my pleasure to haul in. Told 
me he wuz on his way to the county jail. Sez 
I, ‘Young feller/ lookin’ at him purty keen, 
‘you’re jest er shoutin’ you’re goin’ to jail, and 
I’m goin’ ter take ye.’ At that he tried ter 
pull er gun, or at least slid his hand towards 
his hip pocket—” 

“We didn’t find any gun on him, Azariah,” 
interrupted the high sheriff. 

“Wal, no, so ye didn’t,” stammered the 
officer, in some confusion, “mebbe he didn’t 
have one, but I thought he wuz goin’ to puli 
one. He acted suspicious, very suspicious, 
Sheriff.” 

Sheriff Jim Barnes now saw the three wait¬ 
ing at the open door. 

“Hello, Cap’n Seth,” he said. “What have 
you got here?” 

“I’ve gut a varmint that wuz settin’ fire to 
the woods over Masonville way, and I thought 
ye might like to have him board with ye a 
spell. We gut him with his automobile.” 

“Come in and sit down,” invited the sheriff. 
“I suppose you know that we’ve already 
caught the one that set the woods fires. A 


THE REWARD 


91 


fellow from Sangusset, who wanted to have 
some deer shooting.” 

Uncle Seth and Tom looked at each other 
in blank amazement. 

“Wal, Sheriff, I guess I’ve made a mistake. 
But I tell ye this feller had a fire started—” 
he began. 

“I tol yer,” snapped the prisoner, “that I 
was cookin’ my breakfast. I ain’t no arson 
guy. Now, kin I go, Sheriff?” 

“Just a moment,” said Sheriff Barnes 
quietly. “I want to ask you a few questions. 
What was the number of your automobile?” 

“I ain’t gut no automo—” 

“You’re a tarnation liar,” broke in Uncle 
Seth excitedly, “you told us down in the woods 
that that was your car in the other road. He’s 
lyin’, Sheriff; either now, or he was lyin’ 
then.” 

The sheriff looked at the prisoner carefully 
and then thumbed over some papers before 
him. “Left fore finger cut off at the first 
joint, gold tooth,” he mused. “Well, we 
could take you in for having a fire without a 
permit, anyway, so you can’t go quite yet; but 


92 


HEAVE SHORT 


I think there is a friend of yours outside who 
will want to see you.” 

He called a deputy and talked to him in 
low tones. The man went out, and directly 
a big broad shouldered man was framed by 
the doorway. He smiled at the prisoner, and 
came forward with a hand outstretched. 

“Well, well, look who’s here; mornin’ 
Snappy.” 

The prisoner’s face blanched for a second; 
then he smiled ruefully and said, “Good 
mornin’, Sarge. For the love er Pete, how 
did youse git here? Didn’t know yer ever 
made the hick towns.” 

“Down here for my health, Snappy; been 
fishin’; and look what a fish I caught. I 
caught Snappy Lewis, one of the slickest check 
kiters that ever slung ink.” 

“You know him, do you, Sergeant?” asked 
Sheriff Barnes. 

“Know him? I guess I do; and I may say 
that the Bankers’ Protective Association is 
offerin’ a thousand for him. I congratulate 
you, Sheriff, on landin’ him. I think you 


THE REWARD 


93 


could afford, with that thousand cornin’ to 
you, to pass around the cigars.” 

“The truth is, I didn’t land him at all. 
Cap’n Seth Nickerson and this young man 
brought him in. Sergeant Brooks of the 
Boston Police Department, Cap’n Nickerson; 
and I don’t know your name, young man,” he 
said, turning to Tom. 

“Tom Stearns, sir,” said Tom, who was 
staring with wonder at the city officer and the 
prisoner. 

“Wal, now, Sheriff,” said the Captain, “we 
had another friend with us, and he came this 
way in this feller’s auto. The auto is outside, 
and, if you’ll excuse me, I guess I’ll go and 
look him up.” 

“What is his name?” asked the sheriff 
quickly. 

“Sam Hotchkiss,” replied Uncle Seth. 

“By George, I believe it’s the same one. 
Boy about sixteen or seventeen? That blund¬ 
ering constable— Hey, Jim, bring in that 
young feller Azariah held up,” he shouted. 

In a few moments Sam was ushered in. He 


94 


HEAVE SHORT 


was not only angry, but a good deal worried, 
for everything seemed to be against him. The 
number and description of the car was the 
same as the one the police had been told to 
watch for, belonging to one “Snappy” Lewis, 
noted forger. Altogether, things were not 
looking well for Sam. Of course as soon as 
Uncle Seth and Tom showed up, the muddle 
would be cleared up; but the delay was nerve 
racking for a boy. 

Sam rushed to Uncle Seth and shook his 
hands. “I never was so glad to see anybody 
in my life. They locked me up, Uncle Seth.” 

Uncle Seth and the two boys told their story, 
and everything was explained to the satis¬ 
faction of the officers of the law. 

“Cap’n,” said the Sergeant to Uncle Seth, 
“you’ve got your nerve with you. Do I under¬ 
stand that you wasn’t heeled?” 

“What do mean, heeled?” asked the old 
man. 

“I mean you carried no gun,” explained 
the officer. “Did you know that my friend 
.Snappy was a gunman? I wouldn’t have 


THE REWARD 


95 


come up against him unless I had a gun in 
each hand. Didn’t he have a gun on him ?’ 5 

“Oh, yes, I fergut,” said Uncle Seth apol¬ 
ogetically, as he fished in his hip pocket, “this 
belongs to him,” and he drew forth an ugly 
looking automatic. “The cuss tried to pull 
that on me, and it made me mad, I tell ye. I 
knocked it out of his hand with a fence stake. 
I warn’t goin’ to have no feller p’int a gun at 
me, I’ve had too many try that on me. There’s 
nuthin’ that makes me see red like that. I 
plumb fergut it, and I’d have carried it off 
with me sure’s the world, and like as not been 
arrested for stealin’, myself,” he chuckled. 

“Fer the love of Mike,” ejaculated the Ser¬ 
geant, “Snappy, were you sleepy this mornin’ 
or what?” 

“I didn’t want to croak the guy, and I didn’t 
think he’d pull any rough stuff. T’ought I 
could make him run at a sight of the iron. 
Nervy ol’ geezer slipped me one on the mitt 
and another on the bean,” he grinned shame¬ 
facedly. 

“A thousand dollars,” mused Uncle Seth 


96 


HEAVE SHORT 


as they rode home. “You fellers better take 
that money, I was jest a passenger, and it 
was—” 

“No, you don’t,” exclaimed both boys. 

“You ought to have the whole of the re¬ 
ward,” protested Tom. “You did it all.” 

“Sure, you ought,” seconded Sam. 

“Now, now, that’s mighty nice of you boys, 
but to tell ye the truth, I don’t need any money 
ter speak of. I’ve gut ’bout everything I 
need, and, besides, I don’t mind tellin’ you in 
confidence that I’ve gut considerbul money 
anyway,*—more’n me and Aunt Cynthy will 
ever need, likely.” 

“Well, I shan’t touch a cent of the money 
unless you take your share, Uncle Seth,” said 
Tom stoutly. “We didn’t do anything.” 

“That’s right,” said Sam. “There must be 
things that you could use the money for.” 

“Wal, lemme see,—I might buy a new main 
sheet for the Cynthy B.” he said thoughtfully, 
with a twinkle in his eye, “and then I s’pose 
I do need a new pair of hip boots; yes, I’ll 
take it, boys.” 


CHAPTER IX 

A SLIPPERY PIECE OF WOOD 

A S Sam was dressing the next morning, he 
heard Captain Nickerson rattling the 
covers of the kitchen stove as he built the fire. 
Suddenly, the old man *began to sing in a 
deep, ponderous bass: 

“With a stamp and a go 
And a Yo Heave ho.” 

When he came to the “stamp,” he brought 
his foot down with a resounding thump upon 
the floor. He sang these two lines over and 
over again, and, if he calculated to have his 
vocal effort act as an alarm clock, he suc¬ 
ceeded, for, as Sam ran down stairs, Aunt 
Cynthia bustled into the “settin’ ” room from 
her adjoining bedroom. “Guess Uncle Seth 
is feeling happy about the reward,” said Sam. 

“Good morning Sam,” greeted the old lady, 
“I alius know, when Seth gits to bellerin’ like 

97 


98 


HEAVE SHORT 


that in the mornin’, that he’s hungry and wants 
his breakfast right away.” 

“Hello, Cynthy,” said Uncle Seth, “didn’t 
know as you was goin’ to git up before noon. 
Here ’tis almost six o’clock. Hello, Sam, you 
jest crawlin’ out, too? Wal, if you and your 
Aunt Cynthy ain’t the sleepy heads!” he 
chuckled. 

To Sam, who was in the habit at home of 
breakfasting around eight, this wasn’t so very 
late. Uncle Seth grinned and chuckled, as he 
saw Sam’s evident discomfort. “Don’t take 
it so hard, Sam, I ain’t been up but about 
fifteen minutes myself.” 

“Cynthy,” he called, “do you know I have 
a hankerin’ for waffles and some of that 
genuine maple syrup I had sent down from 
New Hampshire.” 

“I’ll stir some up in a minute, Seth, you’ll 
have to eat this omelet fust, or ’twill fall and 
git soggy.” 

“With a stamp and—” began Uncle Seth 
again, but his wife cut him short. 

“Seth Nickerson, do stop that racket, you’re 


A SLIPPERY PIECE OF WOOD 99 

wuss’ern a boy. The neighbors’ll think 
you’ve took leave of your senses.” 

“All right, Mother,” he said, “but bring on 
sunthin’ to eat, for as the old feller said, over 
to Nantucket, when he come in for dinner, 
‘I’ve come with a swept hold.’ ” As Uncle 
Seth attacked the huge fluffy omelet and then 
the hot brown waffles, it was very evident to 
Sam that the old Captain had not been 
romancing. 

“There, suh,” he declared, “I feel better. 
I snum, Cynthy, the longer you cook victuals, 
the better you do it.” At which his wife said, 
“You go on, Seth,” but the look she gave him 
belied her apparent impatience at his com¬ 
pliment. 

He went out toward the shop droning what 
was to Sam unintelligible jargon. It went 
like this: 

“Cutty hunk 
Penikese 
Nashawena 
Pasquenese 
Naushon 


100 


HEAVE SHORT 


Nonamesset 
Woods Hole 
Succonesset 

George Lovell and Z. D. 1 Bassett ! 9 

“‘What’s all that you’re saying, Uncle Seth?” 
laughed Sam, as he hurried after him. 

“That, Samuel,” said Uncle Seth with an 
elaborate drawl, “is one of the coastin’ classics 
of Vineyard Sound. If you will look at the 
map of Vineyard Sound, you will see them 
names. They are p’ints and islands on the 
way from New York, after you leave Block 
Island and strike into the Vineyard. You 
will notice that they rhyme, and one of the 
fust bits of verse I ever remember was this 
one.” 

“The last two are names of people, aren’t 
they?” asked Sam. 

“They was the name of two schooners that 
travelled them waters; and they was on the 
route so long, and so often, that everybuddy 
alius met ’em; so, for a joke, we alius put ’em 
in the rhyme with the other fixtures.” 

“I’m going to learn that verse,” laughed 
Sam, “and spring it on the boys at home. I’m 


A SLIPPERY PIECE OF WOOD 


101 


not sure that I can spell the names, if I want 
to write them down.” 

“To tell the truth, I don’t believe I can, 
either. Better look on one of my charts, that’ll 
give ’em,” said Uncle Seth. 

“I didn’t know you ever went coasting 
much, Uncle Seth.” 

“I never did, what you might call much, 
side of a lot of fellers ’round here. I went 
when I was a young feller some, between 
whalin’ voyages, jest for recreation. Why, 
trips to New York and Newport and Maine 
and Boston was nothin’ more than a good 
time for me. I had lots of fun on them trips, 
and I warn’t away from home but a few days 
or weeks at a time. That was easy, side of 
three and five year voyages into the Ar’tic.” 

“I suppose there were a lot of sailing ves¬ 
sels between Boston and New York then, 
weren’t there, Uncle Seth?” asked the boy, in 
wonder that coasting on the hazardous shores 
of New England should be called pleasure 
trips. 

“Yes, a lot of ’em,” said the old skipper. 
“I’ve seen twenty sails off Gay Head at the 


102 


HEAVE SHORT 


same time. When some of ’em was goin’ the 
same way, then there was fun. If the Cap’ns 
had any sportin’ blood, they’d sure race; and 
that was racin’, lemme tell ye. I’ve seen six 
vessels, two masters most of ’em, runnin’ fore 
the wind, boomin’ around Cuttyhunk all wung 
out—” 

“Wung out,” asked Sam, “what’s that? 
It sounds Chinese.” 

“Didn’t you ever hear that? Why, that is 
where they’re runnin’ ’fore the wind, with all 
sails spread out as near right angles to the 
vessel as they could git ’em, takin’ all the wind 
there is. You’ve seen partridges, or pictures 
of ’em with their feathers all ruffled up? 
Well, a sailor would say that they was all 
wung out. 

“As I tell ye, they’d sweep across Vineyard 
Sound, and how the others would cord the 
feller that got beat, when they got ashore; 
and he tryin’ to find excuses.” 

“Were you ever in any races coming along, 
Uncle Seth?” asked Sam. 

“Sure, I’ve been in ’em,” laughed the old 
man half closing his eyes reminiscently. 


A SLIPPERY PIECE OF WOOD 


103 


“I went mate with Cap’n Nehemiah 
Phinney one summer. We was loadin’ granite 
in Maine, and takin’ it to Albany for the new 
State House. Had good weather most of the 
time, and a vessel small enough so we didn’t 
have to keep but two men besides ourselves. 

“One time we was cornin’ out of New 
York. It narrered up some before we gut 
out into the Sound, and right ahead of us was 
the schooner Marthy Bursely, Zeno Powers 
cap’n of her. I knew Zeno purty well, and 
he was alius braggin’ about how the Marthy 
could sail,—bragged a lot,—and she could 
sail, there was no doubt about it. 

“Now the Huntley, that Cap’n Nehemiah 
run, could sail, too, lemme tell ye; but he never 
would take on any of the fellers. He was a 
modest little man, good as gold, and never 
done much talkin’. I knew that the Huntley 
was as able a little schooner as ever went out 
of New York, and I was jest itchin’ to try her 
out against Cap’n Zeno’s Marthy Bursely, 
especially since he had alius bragged so about 
her. 

“ ‘Cap’n,’ says I, ‘there’s Cap’n Zeno in the 


104 


HEAVE SHORT 


Bursely, ahead there a piece. I believe the 
Huntley could run by her and beat her to the 
mouth of the harbor. What do you say we 
take him on?’ 

“ ‘Don’t want to race, Seth,’ says he. ‘To 
beat him you’d have to run to wind’ard of 
him, and I don’t ever mean to go to wind’ard 
of ary vessel. It ain’t good manners.’ That 
was a fact, he never would run to the wind’ard 
of a vessel.” 

“Do you mean that he thought he would 
be taking an unfair advantage?” suggested 
Sam, who was sailor enough to know that a 
vessel running to the windward of another 
would likely take the wind out of her sails, 
and cause her to slow up. 

“That’s it, exactly. As the Englishman 
would say,* ‘It ain’t Cricket,’ ” laughed the 
old man. “Wal, we was goin’ ’fore the wind, 
all wung out, and I says, ‘Wal, Cap’n, do you 
mind if I give him a leetle go, if I’ll keep to 
leeward of him?’ 

“ ‘Go ahead, Seth, if you want,’ says he. 
So I took the wheel and give it to her. We 


A SLIPPERY PIECE OF WOOD 105 


had all sail set with a good stiff breeze to our 
backs. We kept creepin’ up on the Marthy 
Bursely, and purty soon, Cap’n Zeno see that 
we was overtakin’ him, and he crowded over, 
so’s I’d have to go to the leeward of the 
Bursely. Wal, I intended to, anyway. 

“He figgered that, when I gut in the lee 
of his sails, I’d slow up, and he’d have me. 
But we was goin’ a purty good clip, and I 
steered her close to his vessel. 

“ ‘Don’t run her down,’ yelled Cap’n Miah 
to me. 

“ ‘I ain’t goin’ to touch her,’ says I. 

“Zeno was runnin’ round on deck of the 
Marthy Bursely , tryin’ to do sunthin’ more; 
for he see we was cornin’ on to him purty 
fast. It warn’t no use; the old Huntley jest 
bristled all her feathers and swept by his lee 
rail without losing a mite of her headway; 
and there was Cap’n Zeno dancin’ ’round, 
purty red in the face, and shakin’ his fist at 
us. 

“I stepped to the taffrail and flung a rope’s 
end overboard, as though I thought he wanted 


106 


HEAVE SHORT 


a tow; and Jimmynetty! didn’t he hol¬ 
ler,” laughed Captain Nickerson. “He jest 
couldn’t do a thing he was so mad. 

“I rubbed my hand along the rail of the 
old Huntley ;—we was near enough so’s he 
could see and hear me all right. As I say, 
I rubbed my hand along the old Huntley's 
rail, and hollers to Cap’n Zeno, ‘Slippery 
piece of wood, this is, Zeno,’ says I.” 

“That must have made him sore,” laughed 
Sam. 

“Wal, suh, it did; sore as a bile,” chuckled 
the old Captain. “Wouldn’t speak to me for 
a year; and, do you know, it sorter cured him 
of braggin’. From that day on, I never heard 
him say a word about how the Marthy Bur - 
sely could sail. Never another yip out of 
him. Oh, that little brush was a dose of 
medicine that done Zeno a world of good.” 


CHAPTER X 
“SETTIN’ TIGHT” 

HE next day being rainy, Uncle Seth 



A was busy in the shop working on the 
new catboat. Sam had found that there was 
much he could do to help, under Uncle Seth’s 
direction, and he enjoyed it hugely. 

“Gee! she’s going to look great, Uncle 
Seth,” said Sam. “Isn’t she smooth and 
clean? I think she’s a beauty.” 

“Smooth, I guess she is. When we git 
through with her, she’ll be as smooth as a 
mouse’s ear,” said the old man. “Goin’ to be 
a purty snug little craft and no mistake. 
When I git this ribbon bent on her, she’ll be 
ready for paint. Then we’ll have to rig her.” 

“What a peach of a little cabin!” exclaimed 
Sam. “Two could sleep aboard her very 
comfortably.” 

“Sure, she’d do well enough to stay aboard 


108 


HEAVE SHORT 


of quite a spell. Reckon we’ll have to put 
in some bunks that’ll fold up on the wall, out 
er the way, and then we’ll put in a cupboard 
or so, and a hinged table.” 

“Have you seen the fellow you’re building 
it for lately?” 

“No, not lately. Reckon he’ll like the 
craft, Sam?” 

“He couldn’t help it, Uncle Seth,” said 
Sam. “I’ll bet he doesn’t realize how much 
time and patience it takes to put together such 
a boat as that.” 

“Oh, yes, I reckon he does,” replied the 
old man. “He knows sunthin’ about boats.” 

“It makes me fairly homesick to think of 
this boat going off to a stranger,” said Sam 
wistfully. 

“A boat does kinder seem like one of the 
family after you’ve tinkered with it a spell, 
don’t it? After you’ve sailed one a while it 
seems all the more so. Take the Gynthy B., 
now, for instance. Don’t believe I’d part 
with that craft for any amount of money.” 

“I should say not,” said Sam, decidedly. 

“Had a good offer for her last year, too. 


‘SETTIN’ TIGHT’ 


109 


A feller offered me eight hundred dollars fer 
her,” and then the Captain stopped as though 
he had said more than he intended. 

“To change the subject,” he continued, “I 
ain’t seen that shellfish combine man around 
here for quite a spell. Guess he’s jest gittin’ 
his wind, ’fore tacklin’ me agin to sell my 
oyster grant.” 

Just then, Aunt Cynthia poked her head in 
the door and said, “Mail’s come. Here’s a 
letter from yer father, Sam. Guess he must 
have gut back from the South. I’ll wait and 
see if they’re all well.” 

Sam opened the letter hastily, and, after 
reading a few lines, he said, “Yes, Aunt 
Cynthia, they are all well, and send their love 
to you and Uncle Seth.” 

“That’s good. When they cornin’ down?” 

“Wait a minute, let’s see. Oh, here he says, 
We shall be delayed a week or two, but you 
bet I shall come to the Cape just as soon as 
it is possible. Tell Uncle Seth to have a big 
scup already tamed for me to catch, and have 
Aunt Cynthia lay in a stock of berry pie, a 
few days before I get there.’ ” 


110 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Bless his heart,” laughed Mrs. Nickerson, 
“he shall have all the berry pie he wants. 
Any one that likes wholesome country food 
the way he does ought to have all he wants. 
I shan’t fergit the good times he and your 
mother give us when we visited you last win¬ 
ter. They couldn’t do too much fer us.” 

“We liked to have you and Uncle Seth 
there, all right,” said Sam heartily. 

“Yes, Sam, I guess ye honestly did,” said 
the old man. “Yer know sometimes country 
folks visit in the city, and their ways are dif¬ 
ferent, and the city folks they kinder make 
fun of ’em, and are glad when they’re gone; 
but I’ll allow your folks ain’t any sech snobs 
as that. I had a rippin’ time with you and 
yer father.” 

“You know, I went to his club with him, 
and he introduced me to his friends,—purty 
nice fellers, too. Kinder tired lookin’ most 
of ’em; and, when he told ’em he was a guest 
at my house down here last summer, and what 
good times he had, I pitied them fellers. 
They couldn’t hear enough about it. They 
asked me more about jCape Cod than any 


‘SETTIM’ TIGHT’ 


111 


crowd I ever see. Wal, most of ’em sighed 
and said they’d gut to go with the family to 
Bar Harbor or Newport or somewhere. One 
feller says ‘Hotchkiss, you’re a lucky beggar. 
I wish my doctor would find me a Cap’n 
Nickerson.’ ” 

After Aunt Cynthia went out, Sam turned 
to Uncle Seth and said, “Father is interested 
in this oyster business. He says for you not 
to sell; and he has spoken to his lawyer about 
the thing, and the lawyer says for us to get 
the promoter to talk all he will, and have him 
make promises, before witnesses, of what he 
will do and everything. He is going to see 
if they have formed the corporation, and re¬ 
ceived the charter. I’ll read you what he 
says. 

“ ‘About the Shellfish Company. It sounds 
fishy to me, and no joke intended. Mr. 
Morton is looking it up for me, and he says 
he thinks we can put a spoke in their wheel. 
Just tell Uncle Seth to sit tight and not sell. 
Get the salesman of stock to make all the rash 
promises of dividends, etc., that he will; but 
you, or some one, be near to hear the con- 


112 


HEAVE SHORT 


versation. It isn’t necessary to have false 
promises or misrepresentations in writing. 
Have a good time’ (you bet, I will—this from 
Sam), ‘and we will come down soon.’ ” 

“Wal, he says set tight, don’t he? Sam, 
that’s one of the best things I do,” the old 
man chuckled. “Oh, yes, I’m a great hand 
to set tight when I think it’s the best thing to 
do. I had a little experience once down near 
Cape St. Roque. That’s on the coast of 
Brazil. It was off the island of Fernando 
Noronha, where we put in for water one 
time. 

“We was on the way home from the Pacific. 
We had intended to stop to refill our water 
casks at some of the West Indjy Islands, for 
the ship was so full of cargo that we couldn’t 
stow enough to last the whole passage; but 
we fell in with the ship, City of New Bedford, 
cornin’ our way, and they was wuss off for 
water than we was, so we give ’em three casks, 
and ’twas agreed that both ships should stop 
at Fernando Noronha and fill up. 

“There is no harbor at Fernando, but good 


‘SETTIN’ TIGHT’ 


113 


anchorage on the nor’west side of the island, 
formin’ a shelter from the sou’east trades, 
which are the prevailin’ winds. We anchored 
within a half a mile of the general landin’. 
The island was, at that time,—and probably 
is now,—owned by Brazil, and was a penal 
settlement, with a governor and a troop of 
soldiers to guard the convicts. 

“The barracks and guard was at the general 
landin’, and a moderate surf broke the whole 
length of the beach. There was no stream 
where vessels could fill their casks, and no 
wells: the inhabitants depended on rain water, 
which was caught in big tanks. These tanks 
was located about a mile west of the anchor¬ 
age, where the shore is rocky and, in con¬ 
sequence, the landin’ difficult. The only 
way to git water was to anchor the ship, un¬ 
reef the raft ropes, and let the casks drift 
ashore separately, then have a boat’s crew 
ashore to receive th6 casks. 

“Wal, we gut what water we wanted and 
I gut the last raft alongside shortly before 
sundown, and found the other two boats’ crews 


114 


HEAVE SHORT 


was gone and only the black cook, Jordan, 
aboard. 

“About that time there was considerbul 
noise on the beach, and my boat’s crew,—I 
was second mate then,—allowed they was 
goin’ ashore, for they thought their mates was 
in trouble with the soldiers. I wouldn’t let 
’em and they gut mad and I was forced to use 
some solid argument with some of ’em. Wal, 
I finally gut my boat on the cranes, and then 
I found out from Jordan that the captain had 
gone ashore, leavin’ the fust mate in charge. 
He/—the fust mate,—had allowed the third 
mate to take a crew ashore to git a stock of 
liquor; and, when they’d been gone some 
time, he took another crew and went after 
’em. 

“We could hear ’em hollerin’, and once in 
a while a musket shot. My men left on the 
ship was purty sullen ’cause I wouldn’t let ’em 
go ashore to help out their mates. They was 
considerbul of a ruckus goin’ on with the 
soldiers, I could tell that. I watched with 
glasses and see the men was taking to their 
boats, and the soldiers follerin’ ’em up; and 


SETTIN’ TIGHT 1 


115 


it looked to me as though the soldiers was 
p’intin’ their bayonets at ’em. 

“Wal, purty soon the two boats come along¬ 
side, and their crews was all of ’em so drunk 
they couldn’t tell what they was doin’. We 
gut ’em aboard after a while, but sech a wild 
bunch you never see. Some of ’em silly, but 
the most of ’em ugly and wantin’ to go back 
and have it out with that guard. The Cap’n 
was goin’ to spend the night ashore with some 
of the officers of the garrison that he knew; 
and here I was, with a drunken crew and 
two mates jest as drunk as the men. It 
warn’t what I’d pick out for a comfortable 
situation. 

“I warn’t a favorite with the men right 
then, for my boat’s crew told ’em how they 
wanted to go ashore and help ’em, but the 
second mate—that was me—wouldn’t let 
’em. I heard ’em talkin’ it over, and their 
language warn’t real ladylike when they said 
anything about the dunder headed fool of a 
second mate. The fust and third mate went 
sound asleep, drunk as fools, the minute they 
come aboard. The whole crew was a rough 


116 


HEAVE SHORT 


lot that we’d picked up in San Francisco. 
They warn’t fond of work, and they jest 
wanted to git out of the country. I shall alius 
think most of ’em was dodgin’ the vigilantes, 
who was doin’ their best to keep order in the 
gold minin’ country about that time. 

“Wal, I knew it would be bad for me if that 
drunken crowd should take it into their heads 
to cut up. Jordan was the only sober one that 
I could depend upon, and I thought likely 
he warn’t overstocked with courage. I went 
over out of sight of the men and picked 
up a pumpbrake—a good solid club—and 
kept in the shadder of the mainm’st, so I 
wouldn’t call their attention more’n I could 
help to the dunder headed second mate,” he 
chuckled, “and set tight.” 

“I see Jordan hangin’ around the outskirts 
of the crowd and wondered if he wanted some 
of the liquor; but he didn’t appear to. The 
men was talkin’ over the fracas of the after-, 
noon and braggin’ about what they did. Then 
one of my boat’s crew spoke up. We wanted 
to come ashore, but the second mate wouldn’t 
let us, and knocked two of the men down,’ 


‘SETTIN’ TIGHT’ 


117 


says he, swearin’ and callin’ me some more 
names. 

“ ‘Let’s go aft, and throw the cuss over¬ 
board,’ says another. 

“At that, they all begun to holler and yell 
approval, and I slid my hand down and gut 
a good grip on my pumpbrake. I thought 
mebbe they’d use me rough, and finally throw 
me overboard; but I had an idee they’d some 
of ’em know they’d been doin’ sunthin’, if 
they tried it. There was twenty-five of ’em, 
mebbe, and, of course, they could do fer me 
in the end, but I warn’t goin’ to run none. 
While they was yellin’ round and talkin’ it 
over, Jordan jumped right into the midst of 
’em, and begun a song and dance, sech as 
negroes do sometimes; and how the men did 
cheer him! They clapped and wanted more. 
He sung and danced there for a full hour. 
Not all his songs were nice, but they suited 
his audience to a T, and, do you know, they 
forgot all about cornin’ aft and throwin’ their 
skip-one-and-carry-two-second mate over¬ 
board. Fust thing I knew, some of ’em had 
dropped to sleep on the deck, and the others 


118 


HEAVE SHORT 


had gone below, and the crisis was past. It 
was a narrow squeak, and no mistake. There 
didn’t appear nothin’ else to do that night, 
and so I done it—I jest set tight,” he laughed. 



CHAPTER XI 


BLUFF 

T HAT afternoon, as Sam was coming to 
the shop, he heard talking, and stopped 
in the shed, when he recognized the voice of 
Hastings, the Shellfish man, as he had come 
to call him. Sam was no eavesdropper, but 
he remembered his father’s injunctions and 
stepped into the recess made by a coal bin, 
where he could view the shop through a crack 
and hear the conversation. 

“I tell you, Captain,” Hastings was saying, 
“this is going to be the best venture any of 
you people in Saquoit ever went into. There’s 
no end to the oyster grants all over the country 
that we can acquire. Don’t you see that the 
few independent growers would have no 
chance at all? This company would control 
the market and the price, and you’d be sewed 
up. We’re doing business in Delaware right 


120 


HEAVE SHORT 


now, and it’s going great. Not only paying, 
but paying big. I tell you, you want to get 
aboard.” 

“Mebbe you’re right,” said Uncle Seth, 
thoughtfully. 

“Sure, I’m right. I have bought nearly all 
the grants in town but yours. We don’t want 
to ruin the business of anybody, but you can 
see for yourself that we’ll have to protect the 
interests of the company by seeing to it that 
the few independent owners have no market 
for their product.” 

“Mr. Hastings,” began Uncle Seth, “when 
do you aim to start operations, and begin to 
git profits?” 

Mr. Hastings licked his lips. He had the 
old boy coming. The only thing he wished 
was for the profits to begin. “Why, Captain, 
the charter of the company has been procured, 
manager appointed, and even now there is 
something going on. Have you seen our 
office? We have one already, and, just as 
soon as the oysters get of proper size, the ship¬ 
ments will begin. There are other men work¬ 
ing in other places along the Cape acquiring 


BLUFF 


121 


grants. Our market will be New York and 
further west. What are now your competitors 
will become your partners when we get to 
going.” 

“If we don’t go in, you say our business 
will be ruined?” asked Uncle Seth, innocently. 

“I’m sorry, but that seems to be the only 
outcome,” responded the young man. 

“And so, out of friendship, or sunthin’ fer 
the rest of us poor benighted souls, you are 
anxious to do your best to git us in on the 
ground floor.” 

“I’d hate, honestly, to see your oyster busi¬ 
ness on the rocks, Captain. There’s a good 
twenty per cent dividend in it for you, if 
you’re in with us.” 

“You don’t say!” ejaculated the Captain. 
“Why, that’s a harnsome profit and no mis¬ 
take. You mean that will be clear?” 

“Absolutely,” nodded Hastings confidently. 
“Modern business methods, price fixing, and 
market adjustment will do wonders.” 

“So it will,” said Uncle Seth. “Why, I 
never thought there’d be that much in it. I 
don’t think I ever gut that much in all the 



) 


122 HEAVE SHORT 

years I have been in it. Who’s goin’ to man¬ 
age the concern?” 

“Mr. Simon Crooker will be our local 
manager,” said Hastings. 

“Sho, Sime Crooker?” exclaimed Uncle 
Seth. “Where’s he picked up any knowledge 
of the shellfish business? Never owned a 
grant, did he?” 

“No, Mr. Crooker has put considerable 
money into the concern, and, in consideration 
of that fact, he was made local manager.” 

Captain Nickerson knew Simon Crooker to 
be a man in Saquoit who had always lived on 
the income of money left him by his father, 
with what he could get together by deals none 
too honest and above board. The only work 
that he had ever done, so far as Uncle Seth 
knew, was bossing a crew of cranberry pickers 
on one or two occasions. 

“So Sime is goin’ to help you out, is he?” 
said the captain. 

“Don’t you think he will make a good man 
for us?” asked the promoter. 

“I guess likely,” said Uncle Seth, “but I 


BLUFF 


123 


reckon I’ll worry along a spell without sellin’ 
out to ye.” 

“I’m sure you’ll regret it, sir. I’ll say, 
at the end of two years, you won’t have an 
oyster business worth buying at any price. 
The trouble is, with some of you folks down 
here, you want to do things the way your 
grandfathers did. Good day.” 

“Same to you, and many uv ’em,” said Uncle 
Seth, as Hastings left the shop. 

“Hullo, Sam,” said Uncle Seth, as Sam 
came out from the coal bin. “Did ye hear 
Hastings say Sime Crooker was going to be 
local manager of their concern? Sime 
Crooker! huh! No more fit to manage an 
oyster business than my suller stairs are fit 
for a razor strop.” 

“What’s the matter with him, Uncle Seth?” 
asked Sam. 

“Wal, I’ll tell ye. I don’t say that the 
two last letters of Sime’s surname ought to be 
left of!; but, if I was namin’ him, I should take 
the matter under consideration,” he chuckled. 
“Then, jest think of Hastings tellin’ me how 


124 


HEAVE SHORT 


my oyster business was goin’ to be ruined, if 
I didn’t do as he said. Jimmynetty! When 
he tells me what I’ve gut to do or take the 
consequences, my dander begins to rise. 
There’s nuthin’ that I despise like a game er 
bluff, and that feller wuz bluffin’, ef I ever 
see anybuddy. 

“Makes me think of a fellow that come 
down here one summer, and tried to bluff, 
and kinder gut me started the same way,—al¬ 
though this one warn’t tryin’ to sell nothin’. 
I used to have a catboat, years ago after I 
come home from sea, that I let to sailin’ 
parties. Good reliable boat she was, about 
twenty-two foot long, the Polly. She done 
purty well for me, during the summer 
time; brought in a hundred or so that come 
in kinder handy. One day, a young chap 
come down to the shore, where I was diggin’ 
a mess of clams. He was dressed right up to 
the nines, and had a young lady with him. 

“He come along where I was, and says he, 
f Cap,—I suppose you’re a Cap, ain’t you*-* 
could you tell me where I could hire a sail 
boat? I want to get one for a week, or while 


BLUFF 


125 


I am here at the hotel. In exchange for some 
filthy lucre, I wish to obtain the rental of a 
boat with snow white sails, yo! ho !’ or sunthin’ 
like that. I warn’t took much by his way of 
speaking fer he looked over at the girl and 
winked as though he was havin’ fun with the 
old salt. 

“ Wal, young feller,’ says I, ‘what you 
mean, without beatin’ around the bush, is that 
you want to hire a sail boat.’ 

“ ‘Right-o! the ancient mariner speaks the 
truth,’ and then he giggled at the girl. 

“ ‘I’ve gut a sail boat out yonder,’ I says, 
‘that I’d jest as soon take some of your filthy 
lucre in exchange fer, pervidin’ you gut 
enough. It’ll be two dollars per diem. By 
the way, do you know anything about sailin’?’ 

“ ‘Why, my dear Captain,’ he says, kinder 
pert like, ‘I invented the ocean. As fur as 
sail boats are concerned, I know ’em like a 
book.’ 

“ ‘All right, she’s your’n for a week, or as 
long as you want her,’ says I. 

“The wind was blowin’ fresh from the 
sou’west when he come down to the wharf with 



126 


HEAVE SHORT 


his white clothes on. I had put a couple er 
reefs in her sail, as a precaution, fer it was a 
good two reef breeze. 

“ ‘I’ll help ye git the sail up, if ye want,’ 
says I, thinkin’ I’d be decent to him, but that 
didn’t suit at all. 

“ ‘No, thank ye,’ says he, ‘this boat is mine 
fer a while, and I don’t need any assistance.’ 

“He strutted around like a bantam rooster 
afore the gal, and I could see that she was took 
in by it all, and thought he was; wonderful. 
Fust thing he done was to cast the Polly 
loose from the wharf, afore he gut his sail 
up. The wind was blowin’ in shore, so that 
marked him fer a green hand ter start with. I 
didn’t say nothin’, fer he’d been so cocky, I 
wanted to hear him squawk for help. Next, 
he gut to the leeward of the sail and begun to 
h’ist away. I grinned to myself, but I says 
nothin’. He had it cornin’ to him, and purty 
soon he gut it good. The sail filled, and the 
boom come round: he was back to it. The 
girl ducked it, and hollered; but not quick 
enough, and it caught him in the rear amid- 
ship, and spanked him as he hadn’t been 


BLUFF 


127 


spanked for some time, I reckon. It doubled 
him over the coamin’, but he hung on, jest 
dodgin’ a duckin’. 

“Two or three old seafarin’ men was on 
the wharf, and they begun singin’ out advice 
to him. 

“ ‘Yer driftin’ in,’ yelled Jed Plummer. 

“The feller grabbed an oar, and tried 
pushin’ her out, but workin’ agin the wind 
he didn’t make out much. 

“ ‘Sheet’s caught, aft,’ hollered somebuddy. 
The feller run forrud. 

“ ‘Aft, aft,’ they hollered. The feller ac¬ 
tually didn’t know one end of the boat from 
t’other. 

“ ‘Lift up yer center board, you can’t git 
her off with that down.’ 

“ ‘It is up,’ he yelled back, a leetle peeved. 

“ ‘ ’Tain’t nuther,’ contradicted Jed. 

“Finally the girl gut it through her head 
what they meant, and hauled it up. 

“ ‘Now, put the pin in and hold it up,’ 
hollered Jed. He was acting as master of 
ceremonies, and I kept out of it. 

“ ‘Now, shove her bow around.’ 


128 


HEAVE SHORT 


“He shoved with all his might. It is deep 
mud there in shore; and, as he heaved and 
shoved, the oar caught in the mud and he like 
to have went overboard,” laughed the captain. 
“He kept at the shovin’ until purty soon he 
gut her bow around so the sail filled and off 
she started. I heard him explainin’ to the 
girl that those ol moss backs gut him nervous, 
hollerin’, or he’d been all right. 

“ ‘H’ist yer sail higher, ye ain’t gut it half 
up,’ yelled Jed, as a partin’ shot; but, either 
the feller didn’t hear him, or he wouldn’t pay 
any attention, fer over toward the island he 
went. 

“I was waitin’ fer him to try to tack, fer 
his board was still up. He was goin’ to 
leeward all the while. Finally, he begun to 
bob purty nigh shore. Couldn’t seem to git 
her to come about, nohow. She jibed, and 
he went off t’other way. 

“ ‘Cal’late he’s goin’ to jump the flats?’ 
asked Jed. 

“ ‘No, but I wish I’d thought to have the 
island moved fer him,’ says I. 


BLUFF 


129 


“ ‘There he goes on the flats, with the tide 
goin’ out,’ groaned Eph Weatherbee. 

“We see him run up in the bow, and begin 
shovin’ with the oar. 

“ ‘Tarnation fool ain’t put his centerboard 
down yit,’ said Jed. 

“ ‘Don’t need it down on the flats,’ says I. 

“ ‘No, drat it,’ says Jed, ‘but, if he’d had it 
down in the first place, he would have been 
able to tack.’ 

“ ‘You’ll recerllect that he invented the 
ocean,’ I remarked. 

“ ‘Doggoned if he ain’t off!’ 

“He somehow had come off the flat, and 
there he was makin’ fer the channel into the 
outer harbor. I took out a pair of oars and 
gut into my skiff boat. 

“ ‘What ye goin’ to do, Seth, row down to 
him?’ 

“ ‘I cal’late to. I don’t want the boat all 
racked to pieces,’ says I. 

“ ‘It’ll be a long row back,’ they laughed. 
I didn’t intend to row back, not by a jugfull. 

“The wind was dyin’ down, but I could 


130 


HEAVE SHORT 


see him tryin’ to tack back and forth across 
that channel. He’d git her off one shore, 
and then she’d go aground on t’other side. 
He was certainly havin’ a pleasant afternoon. 
I wondered if he’d kept his temper ’fore the 
gal. 

“All this time, he’d kept the centerboard 
up. I s’pose, as long as Jed told him to haul 
it up, he thought it was one of the rules of 
sailin’ never to put it down. ’Course, it is 
possible to tack without the board, as you 
know, but you have to know how to work 
it. 

“ ‘Hold on, I’ll come aboard,’ I yelled to 
him. He was perfectly willin’ fer some help 
by this time. 

“ ‘What’s the matter with the old tub?’ he 
hollered at me. 

“ ‘Ain’t nothin’ the matter with the boat. 
It’s the ocean,’ says I. ‘If you’d only invented 
a better ocean it would be all right.’ The gal 
giggled, and he gut redder’n a beet. 

“Wal, suh, that feller finally had to row 
and paddle that sail boat all the way back to 
the wharf. I gut it out of the channel en- 


BLUFF 


131 


trance, and then the wind died a natural death, 
and left purty nigh a dead calm. He said 
he was tired, and suggested that I row ’em 
back; but I cal’lated I was ridin’, myself, 
after pullin’ the skiff out there a mile to git 
him out of his fix. When we gut into the 
wharf it was late. 

“ ‘The hotel dining-room will be closed,’ 
says the girl. 

“‘;We’ll drive over to Bainrich and git 
dinner,’ says he. 

“ ‘No, thank you, I’ll hunt up a bite some¬ 
where,’ says she, kinder offish. 

“ ‘Too bad the breeze died down so, or you 
could sail her over,’ says I.” 

Sam laughed heartily over the sailing 
troubles of the city chap. “No one could 
blame you for being angry at him, Uncle 
Seth.” 

“That was one of the times I gut good and 
het up, I’ll admit. It was a bluff that done 
it. If that feller had come down and said: 
‘See here, Cap, I don’t know the fust thing 
about sailin’ a boat, but I’d love to learn, and 
I want to give the lady, here, a sail,’ why, I’d 


132 


HEAVE SHORT 


jest as soon gin him a lesson and a sail as not. 
But, when he come down and put up a bluff 
that he really knowed a lot, and then didn’t 
know nothin’, I was mad. 

“ ‘Did you know that it is jest sech fools 
as you be that capsizes sail boats,’ says I. 
‘You are old enough to have a leetle judgment, 
ef you’re ever goin’ to have any; but I tell 
ye it’s criminal fer you to take a young lady 
out sailin’, and she reskin’ her life with you 
blunderin’ round, and not knowin’ aft from 
forrud.’ I tell ye, I gin it to him good. 

11 ‘What’s the bill for the rescue, Cap’n,” 
he finally says, cornin’ down and bein’ real 
decent. ‘Jest as a pertection to this young 
lady, and others that ye may take it into yer 
fool head to invite sailin’, I’ll say ten dollars; 
but that includes a lesson termorrer in sailin’ 
a boat. I’ll give termorrer’s lesson, and as 
many more as you’ll take. By doin’ it, I 
cal’late I’ll be savin’ lives.’ ” 

“And did he come the next day?” asked' 
Sam. 

“Yep, he and the gal both; and, ’fore the 
summer was over, I taught ’em both to sail, 


BLUFF 


133 


and they did real well. I tell ye, I taught 
that feller two things, and they were respect 
fer the power of the wind and not to bluff. 
As I say, a bluff makes me mad clean 
through.” 


CHAPTER XII 

THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 

Ll T suppose you are going to put an auxiliary 
X gas engine in her, aren’t you, Uncle 
Seth?” asked Sam, looking at the old man out 
of the corner of his eye. 

“No, suh, I ain’t, you rascal,” grinned 
Uncle Seth, “and you know it. I ain’t goin’ 
to put no kicker in this boat. It makes me 
provoked whenever I see ’em clutterin’ up the 
harbor. Never see one that ye didn’t have 
to coddle and fuss with ’fore ’twould start. 

“No, suh,” he continued, “I ain’t in sech a 
tarnation hurry that I can’t git along fast 
enough with the wind. I do remember one 
time, though, when I was glad of a leetle 
help besides wind power.” 

“You didn’t have gas engines when you 
went to sea, did you, Uncle Seth?” asked 
the boy. 


134 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


135 


“No, it warn’t an engine that helped us 
out. I’ll tell ye. I was mate with Cap’n 
Crocker on the Washington out of New Bed¬ 
ford. It was along in February and we was 
cruisin’ fer sperm whales in the Pacific, jest 
south of the Equator: puttin’ in our time till 
May, when the ice would break up in the 
North, and we could git in to Berin’ Sea 
and the Ar’tic after right whales and bow 
heads. 

“We was about abreast of Stranger Island. 
The wind was from the nor’rud and gittin’ 
brisker every minute. It looked purty thick 
as though sunthin’ was brewin’. The old man 
didn’t like the look of things a mite. In that 
latitude when bad weather and a storm starts, 
it comes down all er whoopin’, and even a 
whaleman likes to git under cover when he 
can. Stranger Island bein’ right handy, the 
Cap’n says to me, ‘Let’s put her in there and 
wait a spell.’ 

“I was agreeable, so we tacked ship and 
beat for the narrer harbor entrance on the 
north side of the island. Neither one of us 
had ever been in there, but we could see it 


136 


HEAVE SHORT 


was purty well land-locked and we judged 
’twould be a safe place. 

“Wal, we beat up, as I say, then wore ship, 
and there we was at the entrance nice as you 
please, with the wind blowin’ almost due 
north and south. 

“Jest then the lookout sings out that there’s 
whales jest astern of us. Now, when a whale¬ 
man hears that call, it’s gut to be sunthin’ purty 
desperate to keep him from goin’ after ’em. 
The old man warn’t no exception to the rule, 
and he was for goin’ after them whales, bad 
weather or no bad weather. 

“ ‘It won’t come on to blow bad for four or 
five hours yit,’ says he, and all the while it 
was what anybuddy else would call purty 
rough. 

“There warn’t no room in the narrer bight 
to come about, so we sailed inside, throwed 
the anchors and lowered all four boats, leavin’ 
the cooper as ship keeper, and made for the 
pod of whales a good three mile off. 

“Jimmynetty! when we gut outside, she was 
sure blowin’ like thunder and Sam Hill. We 
gut up purty nigh to the whales, but they 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


137 


sounded and then one of the boats crossed 
their glip or sunthin’—” 

“What’s their glip, Uncle Seth?” Sam 
interrupted. 

“That’s the slick they make in the water. 
When whales sound, and a whale boat crosses 
the slick, the whales alius git gallied and run. 
Nobuddy’s been able to tell jest why they do 
that, but it’s the truth, nevertheless. Wal, as 
I was sayin’, one of the boats crossed the glip 
and them critters gut gallied and we knowed 
there warn’t a mite of use to go after ’em, 
for once whales git gallied you might jest as 
well bid ’em good bye. 

“The old man signalled all the boats to re¬ 
turn to the ship. We stepped the masts— 
we had rowed out—and with our leg-o’-mut- 
tons bellied out, we run ’fore the wind right 
lively, I tell ye. When a whale boat is put to 
it she can travel some and no mistake. 

“When we was a mile and a half or sech a 
matter from the Washington, we see sunthin’ 
that looked like boats alongside of her, and, 
as we gut nearer, we see that they was big 
war canoes full of natives. We drove them 


138 


HEAVE SHORT 


boats for all they was wuth and swept through 
the mouth of the harbor with every stitch 
pullin’. When we made the ship, none of 
the natives objectin’, we swarmed up over the 
side, ready to shake hands or fight as the case 
might be. 

“Wal,” he grinned, “we shook hands, or at 
least, the Cap’n did. 

“The ship keeper was tryin’ to have a par¬ 
ley with what appeared to be the head black 
man, but he warn’t gittin’ very fur, so I took 
a hand. I’d picked up quite a bit of talky- 
talk here and there among the islands. As 
I stood beside that giant of an islander, I 
thought I’d never see anything so big, unles # 9 
’twas on wheels,” chuckled the old man. 
“There he stood, better’n 'six foot, and so 
broad in the beam, that if he’d wore any 
clothes to speak of, ’twould have took a heap 
er cloth to have made ’em. 

“This feller’s name was George—King 
George—and he’d come to warn us against 
a rival chief by the name of Kauca, from the 
southern half of the island, who was on the 
war path and at last accounts was rushin’ 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


139 


north to have his semi-annual go with George 
and his tribe. 

“Accordin’ to King George, this Kauca 
feller was a mean cuss, meaner’n dirt, though 
he was a cousin of his. He’d murder his own 
grandmother and glad of the chance, the way 
I took it from George. 

“This Kauca chief was especially fond of 
gittin’ afoul of white men. Whenever there 
was any about, it upset him sunthin’ turrible 
and he jest had to hack ’em up. He’d been 
known to eat his white captives, when they 
was served up nice and tasty, too. On the 
other hand, George was friendly to white 
men and hadn’t ever et one in his life. That 
was what he said, but I warn’t so allfired sure 
he was tellin’ the truth about that as I wished 
I was. I kinder thought he might git the 
habit all of a sudden and it worried me. 

“Stranger Island was mountainous, prob¬ 
ably of volcanic origin. It had two narrer 
harbors, one on the north side, that we’d come 
into, and one on the south. The harbor on 
the north, run, as we knew, north and south, 
and George explained, what me and the old 



140 


HEAVE SHORT 


man should have found out before we come 
in, that the no’theast trade winds blew more 
inward than outward: so it was an easy mat¬ 
ter to enter, but a dog of another color to git 
out. 

“Of course, both of us should have known 
that, but, never havin’ been in there before, 
and never hearin’ anybuddy say anything 
about it, we’d been caught nappin’, and here 
we was in this place too narrer to tack out of, 
in what was almost alius a head wind. Nice 
kettle of fish to be in, warn’t it, for two fellers 
that pertended to be deep-water sailors. 

“The southern harbor, where this Kauca 
held forth, was jest the opposite, hard to git 
into, but easy to git out of. That is to say, easy 
to git out of, if 'Kauca didn’t ketch ye fust. 
Wal, here we was. We couldn’t git out and 
it looked as though we’d have a chance purty 
soon, mebbe, to fight off Kauca. He’d likely 
have hundreds of warriors and I judged that 
George would have all he could ’tend to on 
shore, without cornin’ out to help us. 

“I thanked King George for warnin’ us and 
told him that we’d do the best we could to- 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 141 

wards keepin’ his cousin from boardin’ us, 
though I didn’t see for the life of me how 
we could hold out long when he had so many 
men. 

“Now, Cap’n Crocker was a purty shrewd 
old sailor and I knowed he wouldn’t lay down 
and let them black fellers take the ship, with¬ 
out a tussle and he warn’t foolish enough to 
think we’d stand a show fightin’ ’em off for 
a great while. Purty soon, after he’d paced 
back and forruds two or three times, he turned 
to me and says, ‘Mr. Nickerson,’ says he— 
you know they alius do considerbul Misterin’ 
;on ship board—‘it don’t look as though we 
could run away, does it?’ 

“ ‘It sartin don’t, Cap’n,’ says I. 

“ ‘We can’t expect to fight off two or three 
hundred savages, either,’ says he. 

“ ‘Can’t for long,’ says I. 

“ ‘Wal, then,’ says he, ‘it looks as though 
we’d gut to do sunthin’ besides run or fight. 
Have all them boats hauled up to the ends 
of the davits.’ 

“Then he ordered all the empty casks broke 
out of the hold. These he had greased all 


142 


HEAVE SHORT 


over and slung out over the sides of the vessel, 
level with her rail. The ropes was toggled 
in the bung holes so the casks made a purty 
smooth and slippery surface all around the 
ship, with nothin’ to ketch holt of, if anybuddy 
come alongside. They couldn’t throw grap¬ 
ples over the rail, ye see. 

“ ‘Now,’ says the old man, when all was 
ready, ‘we’ll see what them Romeos will do 
about climbin’ our stairs now!’ 

“A better night for an attack, if they was 
aimin’ to make one, you never see. It was 
cloudy, and darker’n the inside of a whale. 
I didn’t much think we’d have a visit from ’em 
that night. In the fust place, the natives 
generally do their fightin’ in daylight, and in 
the next place, if Kauca was in the neighbor¬ 
hood, he’d likely run up with some of George’s 
men fust and we’d hear some hollerin’. 

“ ‘Guess they ain’t cornin’,’ whispered the 
Cap’n to me. We was all on deck, some 
crouchin’ and others pacin’ back and forth 
listenin’. 

“ ‘No,’ says I, ‘I guess—■’ and jest at that 
minute I heard a little swish jest abeam of 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


143 


us. Some of the men had heard it and was 
peekin’ over the side. 

“I peered out through the darkness and 
see lots and lots of long black shapes slidin’ 
through the water. War canoes, says I to 
myself. The Kaucas had slipped by King 
George’s men all easy, for we hadn’t heard 
a sound from shore. I suppose they had been 
watchin’ us in the afternoon from hidin’ 
places along the shore and seen us come to 
anchor. If they could seize a vessel right 
in George’s own front yard, so to speak, it 
would be a great lot of feathers in their caps. 

“Every man on deck crouched with pike 
and gun ready at hand. If ary a one of them 
black men was able to git his head above the 
row of slippery barrels, he was goin’ to have a 
warm reception, I could see that. It was 
kinder creepy, jest the same, waitin’ there on 
deck with the wind sighin’ through the riggin’ 
and the waves lappin’ the sides of the ship, 
knowin’ that but a few feet from us was a 
hundred or so savages sneakin’ ’round ready 
and willin’ to begin hackin’ at us. I begun to 
think of all the stories I’d heard about vessels 


144 


HEAVE SHORT 


bein’ taken and the crews tortured, and mebbe 
et. Furnishin’ a meal for the varmints 
wouldn’t trouble me so much, I figgered, but 
it was the preparations that was goin’ to bother 
me. 

“The canoes stopped under the larb’ud 
quarter where I was, and the natives begun 
jabberin’ softly among themselves, and I 
judged they’d found the casks hung out over 
the sides. They shoved around to starb’ud 
and grunted some more, when they found the 
same breastworks thrown up there. This was 
a new dodge, I reckon, and they didn’t know 
jest what kind of a craft they’d run up 
against. 

“Purty soon a dark form stood up in one 
of the canoes and another leaped to his 
shoulders and grabbed at the chimes of a cask. 
He was goin’ to try to come over the side, 
whether or no. Some nervy, I called it, but 
from where I was, with a good oak pike pole 
on my hand, I sorter figgered his courage was 
some better’n his judgment. He must have 
been a strong feller, for, bracin’ his feet 
against the side of the vessel, he hung on with 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


145 


his hands and tried to kinder walk up her 
side. He done well, I’ll say that fer him, 
but when he tried to git a fresh holt, it was 
no go, and he lost his grip and slid back onto 
the feller below him. 

“He hadn’t more’n struck the canoe ’fore 
he was up and tryin’ it a second time. We 
could have opened fire on ’em then and there, 
but the old man thought we’d better save our 
ammunition, so we waited. This time the 
big black feller made it a leetle better and I 
see the top of his head edgin’ up over the 
edge of the bar’l. I took a good grip on my 
club. I never did hit a man, not even a sav¬ 
age, without warnin’, but thinks I, if he gits 
too fur up on that bar’l this is where I do. 

“I heard him slip and that time he fell 
back and I guess he struck the canoe harder, 
for he didn’t git up. If he’d broke his back, 
he’d saved himself a busted skull. 

“The crew on the vessel was so tickled to 
see how well our bar’ls worked that one of 
’em fetched a ‘Haw! Haw! Haw!’ and that 
set off the natives in more wild jabberin’ and 
they begun to shoot musket balls from the 


146 


HEAVE SHORT 


canoes; but they was so low in the water and 
we was so high above ’em, that the balls jest 
zinged through the riggin’ over our heads 
and done us no harm. 

“ ‘Guess we’ve gut clear of ’em,’ says the 
old man, and sure enough they begun paddlin’ 
off toward shore. 

“It was gittin’ lighter now and we see ’em 
land at the foot of a steep bank and scramble 
up. It was purty high and when they gut to 
the top, muskets begun to crack agin and 
bullets dropped in the water all ’round us. 
iWe kept down outer sight and none of ’em 
seemed to carry as fur as the vessel. They 
gut a better range finally, and we could hear 
them musket balls whine through the rig- 
gin’ and go plop against the sides and bar¬ 
rels. 

“ ‘Keep down,’ sings out the Cap’n, ‘or 
somebuddy’ll git hurt.’ 

“ ‘I’d like mighty well to take a shot at ’em,’ 
says one feller, peekin’ up over the side and 
squintin’ along his gun barrel. T could 
pick off some of them fellers jest as easy!’ 

“But the old man wouldn’t hear to it. 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


147 


Wastin’ bullets that we may need later,’ says 
he. 

“Musket balls begun to come thicker and 
then all of a sudden they stopped cornin’ our 
way but the firin’ was still goin’ on and then 
the natives begun yellin’. 

“ ‘That’s George’s fellers after ’em,’ yelled 
one man, and it looked that way to me. An¬ 
other crowd was runnin’ through the woods 
and we could see the whole fight from where 
we was. It was more excitin’ than any movin’ 
picture you ever see. There warn’t no make 
believe about it nuther. They didn’t fight in 
any solid formation, but kept poppin’ at one 
another from behind trees and rocks. Once 
in a while two of ’em would git at it close in 
and they never quit till one of ’em dropped. 
King George’s men gut the Kaucas on the 
run finally and the yells gut further away un¬ 
til they died out away toward the south. I 
cal’lated we was safe for the present any¬ 
way. 

“ ‘Now we’ve gut to wait till that blamed 
wind changes,’ says Cap’n Crocker, ‘and the 
Lord only knows when that will be.’ 


148 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Along in the afternoon, King George and 
a bunch of his warriors put out from shore and 
come alongside. He was tickled as a baby 
with a new rattle. They’d driv the Kaucas 
south—what there was left of ’em. Kauca 
himself was dead; and, without their leader, 
George allowed it wouldn’t be any trick, at 
all, to go down there and clean ’em all out. 

“The wind was still inshore and blowin’ 
purty strong and I explained to the King that 
we was anxious to git on our voyage and how 
long would this wind blowin’ right into the 
mouth of the harbor keep up, most likely? 

“ ‘New moon, new wind,’ says he. 

“I knowed if we waited for that, we’d be 
late gittin’ into the Ar’tic, and told him what 
a calamity it would be for us to delay. 

“ ‘Me fix ’um,’ says he with a grin. 

“How he proposed to ‘fix ’um,’ I couldn’t 
see, but this is how he did it. He sent thirty 
or forty of his men ashore where huge trees 
lined the bank near the entrance of the harbor. 
They cut one of these, leaving most of the 
branches as jagged ends sticking out from 
the main tree some eight or ten feet. They 



THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


149 


dragged the tree to the water’s edge, and, hitch¬ 
ing a stout line to the smaller end, rolled the 
monstrous thing into deep water outside the 
mouth of the harbor. Whatever kind of wood 
it was, it was heavy, and sank to bottom. 
Many of the southern woods won’t float, you 
know. 

“They bent a line some forty fathom onto 
the one they’d already fastened to the smaller 
end of the sunken tree and came aboard with it. 

“The Cap’n sensed what they was aimin’ 
to do, and, jest as soon as they was aboard 
with the line, hove up the anchor. The 
natives double banked themselves on that rope, 
and standin’ on the deck, they hauled away. 
The stubs of branches dug into the bottom out 
there in deep water and acted like so many 
anchor flukes and would hold all they could 
pull. With them heavin’, the ship moved 
out, and, in this way they warped her clear 
of the narrer harbor that no ship could git out 
of unless the wind shifted to an uncommon 
angle. 

“When the ship reached the sunken log 
outside, King Georger cut the line and hove 


150 


HEAVE SHORT 


it aboard. In the meantime the crew had 
loosed the tops’ls, leaving two men at each of 
the bunt gaskets. As soon as the line was cut, 
the sails was sheeted home and h’isted all 
three at the same time, and within a few 
minutes the ship was standin’ off shore in 
safety. 

“ ‘George,’ says the old man, ‘I’m sure 
much obliged to ye.’ 

“George grinned, showing his white teeth. 
He didn’t get much of what the old man said, 
but he knew it was meant to be friendly, and 
they shook hands all over again. 

“ ‘Come ’gain,’ says George, airin’ his small 
store of English. 

“ ‘Mebbe I will,’ agreed the Cap’n, ‘I like 
you fust rate and if it warn’t for your southern 
neighbors over there, I’d drop in on ye reg- 
erler. I must say, though, I don’t like them 
fellers over to the s’uthard.’ 

“ ‘Me fix ’um,’ grinned the big black feller, 
as he went over the side and got into his 
canoe. 

“I never went into Stranger Island again, 
but from what I learned from another whalin’ 


THE ONE-WAY HARBOR 


151 


cap’n a few years afterwards, I judge George 
‘fixed ’um.’ This Cap’n said that he stopped 
there and George had the whole island under 
his rule. Kauca bein’ gone, all his followers, 
George either killed, or they became his 
subjects, and he was havin’ a high old time. 

“As for me, I didn’t hanker for any more 
of that one way harbor.” 

“I should say that was a time when you were 
glad of something beside wind power. That 
was a great scheme of putting the barrels 
over the side. I suppose you would call that 
strategy, too, Uncle Seth,” said Sam. 

“I reckon you would, Sam. You see it 
don’t alius pay to rush in do sunthin’ rash 
when you can use yer head and keep out of 
trouble, and git what you’re after,” he 
chuckled. “Le’s call it a day, Sam, and go 
git a mess er crabs.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 

“They pulled the Cod and Haddock in, 

And fished without a rod, suh,— 

And, for the fust big fish they caught, 

They named the Cape, Cape Cod, suh,— 
And as they had amazin’ luck, 

The fishing was so handy, 

They thought they’d settle on the Cape, 
Although ’twas ruther sandy.” 

“Yankee Doodle, keep it up,— 

Yankee Doodle Dandy,— 

At ketchin’ fish, or sailin’ ships, 

Our Cape men are quite handy.” 

T HUS sang Uncle Seth, as he and Sam 
plied their paint brushes, giving the 
new sail boat her priming coat. At the con¬ 
clusion of the rollicking tune, Sam dropped 
his brush to applaud, vigorously. “That’s 
152 


CAPN PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 153 

good, Uncle Seth, give us some more,” he 
cried. 

“I guess there ain’t time ’fore dinner,” 
grinned the old man. “If I recerllect right, 
there’s some forty-two verses, in all. Don’t 
take too much paint on yer brush, to once, 
Sam,” he cautioned. “The fust coat wants to 
be thin and brushed out well. Don’t ever want 
the primin’ coat daubed on thick, or she’ll 
blister. That’s it, now you’re gettin’ the idee.” 

“I like to paint, don’t you, Uncle Seth?” 
asked Sam, smoothing the white surface of the 
boat’s hull, carefully. 

“Yes, I ruther enjoy it,” agreed the old man, 
“except where it means climbin’ a ladder. 
You know, its funny, I never used to mind 
gittin’ up high,—jest as soon go up on the 
yards of a vessel as not. Calm or storm, it 
made no difference to me. She might roll 
and pitch all she wanted to and I was jest as 
much to home as I would be in the settin’ 
room rocker. I’ve reefed in a blow when the 
canvas was roarin’ and slattin’ all around me 
and it seemed as if the craft was goin’ to hop 
up in the air and come down topm’st fust; and 


154 


HEAVE SHORT 


I thought nothin’ of it. But I’ve been ashore 
quite a spell and I s’pose I’ve gut used to 
huggin’ the ground purty close, for, now if 
I git up more’n ten foot, I feel as though I 
was as high as Provincetown monument.” 

“I should think when a young sailor went 
aloft for the first time, he’d be scared. I’m 
sure I should be,” said Sam. 

“You’d be all right, if you went at it kinder 
gradual. If you happened to have a mate 
that ordered you aloft for the fust time in 
a blow, you’d have a hard time, most likely,” 
said the old sailor. 

“You mean that they sometimes used to ask 
a man to climb the rigging in a storm, before 
he’d had any practice?” asked Sam, in amaze¬ 
ment. 

“There was plenty of mates that would do 
jest that,” declared Uncle Seth, “though it 
might mean death for the young feller.” 

“I should have refused to go,” said the boy, 
emphatically. “Just tell the mate I’d rather 
try it on a calm day first.” 

“You’d have,—Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Yes, 
yes, you’d have looked purty tellin’ a regerler 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 155 


hard b’iled mate of a wind jammer that,” 
laughed the old sailor. “The next thing you’d 
know, most likely, would be when they 
throwed a bucket of sea water over ye to bring 
ye toy—if they took that much trouble. Sam, 
in the old days, young fellers didn’t tell the 
boss what they would do and what they 
wouldn’t. They done what they was told and 
done it quick. It warn’t real healthy for ’em 
to do different. 

“They was a good deal like Hezekiah Sim¬ 
mons over to Craig’s Mills. Hez was a 
bachelor and lived with his sister Myra. A 
small meek kind of a feller was Hez, hardly 
dared say his soul was his own, as fur as 
Myra was concerned. She was a big up- 
standin’ woman and would have made two of 
her brother. He needed jest sech a partner 
to look after him, but it was purty gallin’ for 
him to have her boss him ’round so, ’specially 
when there was others present. 

“One day Myra said it was time to move 
the settin’ room stove out into the shed for the 
summer. Hez allowed it was all foolishness 
to git that great heavy stove back and forth 


156 


HEAVE SHORT 


every season. Said they ought to let it stay 
in the house. Myra jest looked at him, and 
he mumbled a little and went over across the 
street and gut Jimmy Bates to help him. 
Myra warn’t no where around when he gut 
back with Jimmy. They tackled the stove 
and after quite a tussle gut it out into the 
shed. 

“ ‘That was a lift, and no mistake, Hez,’ 
says Jimmy. ‘I should think you’d leave the 
tarnation thing in the house all summer.’ 

“ ‘I ain’t goin’ to move it agin’, declared 
Hez. ‘Back it goes into the settin’ room this 
fall, and I say, there it stays. I’m goin’ to 
stop sashayin’ that stove around.’ Jest then, 
he looked up and there stood Myra in the 
doorway. She fixed her eye on him and he 
curled up like a leaf in the sun. 

“ ‘There, there, Hezie,’ says Myra, ‘Don’t 
you be tellin’ what you’re goin’ to do. You 
don’t know what you’re goin’ to do.’ And 
she turned and walked away. 

“So it was on ship board. You didn’t go 
around tellin’ what you was goin’ to do. You 
was there, and there you stuck, and you done 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 157 

what you was told, no matter how disagree¬ 
able.” 

“Just about the same as being in jail,” said 
Sam. 

“Sometimes it did seem that way,” agreed 
Uncle Seth. “A sailor did have the chance 
to desert when he struck port, but that was 
often jest what the officers wanted him to do, 
for then they wouldn’t have to pay the wages 
due him. If he shipped on another vessel, 
often times he wouldn’t be any better off. 
Yes, a ship with hard officers was a good deal 
wuss than bein’ in jail, especially if the jail 
was like Bainrich jail when Zeb Gurney was 
jailer. 

“There was some sort of a reformer or other 
that was goin’ round investigatin’ the county 
prisoners,—goin’ to write a piece about ’em 
for some society. In his round of visits he 
struck Bainrich and since that was one of the 
oldest of the country lock ups, he went in to 
interview Zeb and look the place over. 

“Zeb was polite to him and took him 
around, answerin’ his questions as best he 
could. He fired questions at Zeb fast, and 


158 


HEAVE SHORT 


acted as though he was tryin’ to find out sun- 
thin’ that warn’t jest right about how Zeb was 
carryin’ on his job as jailer. Finally he says, 
Where are your prisoners?’ 

“Zeb p’inted out in the yard where two old 
derelicts sot on the fence, whittlin’ in the sun. 
‘There they be,’ says Zeb. 

“ ‘You allow yer prisoners considerbul lib¬ 
erty,’ he sputtered. ‘That all ye gut, two?’ ” 

“Zeb had stood about all the investigatin’ 
he could and he says solemn as could be, 
‘Wal, I did have another one but he gut dis¬ 
satisfied with the cookin’ and left, about a 
month ago.’ ” 

“That must have startled the investigator 
some,” laughed Sam. 

“I reckon it did,” chuckled Uncle Seth, “it 
give him sunthin’—Jimmynetty! What’s 
that?” exclaimed the old captain, as with a 
bang and a clatter, an automobile came to a 
halt in the side yard. 

“By time! it’s Cap’n Peter Sprague and 
Cap’n Joel Handy. I never knew they had 
a car,” said Uncle Seth, as he rushed from 
the shop with Sam following. 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 159 

“Hello, Sethie,” called both men. 

“Ahoy! old shellbacks,” cried ’Captain 
Nickerson, heartily. “Clew up yer sails and 
come aboard for a gam,” he invited. 

“That’s what we come for,” said Captain 
Joel, the smaller of the two. “Gut both an¬ 
chors out, Petey?” 

His companion dragged a coil of rope from 
under the seat and proceeded gravely to moor 
the car to the Sweet Bough tree from the rear 
axle and to Aunt Cynthia’s clothes post from 
the front. “Thar,” he said, as he looked at 
the automobile, speculatively, “Guess I’ve gin 
her plenty of warp, so she won’t drag none.” 

Sam gazed with wondering eyes at the 
strange method of making fast an automobile 
and although nearly convulsed, managed to 
shake hands with the two captains with a 
straight face. 

“Come right into the shop,” said Captain 
Nickerson, “I ain’t seen you fellers sence 
Nero was a pup. How ye ben?” 

“We’re fust class, now we’ve gut one of 
these gasolene craft,” said Joel. “We was 
stayin’ to home too much, kinder gittin’ bar- 


160 


HEAVE SHORT 


nacles and needed pullin’ up into dry dock. 
I said to Peter, We’re too young to be aban¬ 
doned on the beach, yit awhile. What we need 
is some short cruises and see some new water.’ 
He agreed that we oughter have more fun as 
we went along, that mebbe, we wouldn’t live 
more’n thirty or forty year more,” he cack¬ 
led, “though I told him that was nonsense, I 
was jest as spry at seventy-five as I ever was—” 

“I told Joel,” interrupted Captain Peter, 
“That there warn’t no use in hivin’ up to 
home all the time, and I proposed we buy an 
automobile. Have as much fun as ye can, as 
ye go along,—that’s me; for, as Ben Peters 
says, there’s jest this life and one other and 
then the jig’s up.” 

“What ye gut the pike stickin’ out on the 
stern of yer machine for?” asked Uncle Seth, 
curiously. 

“Come inside and I’ll tell ye about that,” 
said Captain Peter. “It’s one of my inven¬ 
tions and when the big automobile makers 
see it, I cal’late they’ll put ’em on all the 
cars.” 

Soon the three old captains of other days 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 161 


were seated, with their pipes going nicely. 
Sam sat on the bench expectantly, for he knew 
of old, when Uncle Seth and some of his old 
cronies got together, it was bound to be inter¬ 
esting. 

“I’m sartin surprised,” began Captain Nick¬ 
erson, “that you boys should buy a craft with¬ 
out sails. I’m kinder ashamed of ye, squan¬ 
derin’ your money like that. You oughter 
put by a leetle sunthin’ for your old age,” he 
chuckled, for both the old seafaring bach¬ 
elors, who lived together down the Cape, were 
notoriously “well fixed.” 

“They be expensive,” admitted Captain 
Joel, “especially with Petey drivin’. I don’t 
know how many hens and dogs he’s had to 
settle for, fust and last.” 

“How about that cow you put on her beam 
ends?” demanded the other captain, his eyes 
snapping beneath his bristling eyebrows. 

“I never run into that cow, at all,” protested 
his companion. “She run into me. You see, 
Sethie, it was this way about that cow. She 
was a blamed fool critter anyway. I was 
blowin’ the fog horn all the time and sig- 


162 


HEAVE SHORT 


nailed that I was goin’ to pass her to starb’ud. 
She crossed my course ’thout payin’ any at¬ 
tention to red or green. Then I tacked and 
she done likewise. Every time I wore ship, 
she seemed to be of the same mind. Had more 
minds about which way she was goin’ than any 
female I ever see. Finally, when we was 
hardly a ship’s long boat apart, she bunted 
right into my bows. So it warn’t my fault 
at all.” 

“Cost ye seventy dollars, jest the same, 
didn’t it?” taunted Captain Peter. “I tell ye, 
Seth, I knew jest as soon as I looked at that 
cow, after he’d hit her that, as a cow, she 
'wouldn’t ever amount to a thing, agin. 
Struck her on the port side about amidships 
and I cal’late, stove her timbers; anyway, we 
thought she warn’t wuth salvagin’, so we put 
her out of her misery and hunted up the 
owner. She was damaged below decks, some- 
wheres—” 

“Mebbe you strained her milk,” chuckled 
Uncle Seth. 

“Strained her—Ho! Ho! Ha! He! He! 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 163 


Did you hear that Joel? He says—He! He! 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Seth, you do beat all.” 

“How about your machine?” inquired 
Uncle Seth. “Did it stave her up any?” 

“Not to speak of,” replied Captain Joel. 
“Battered her bow some, but she didn’t leak 
a drop and we made port without payin tow¬ 
age.” 

“How about that drogue, or whatever you 
call it, stickin’ out astern of yer auto,” asked 
Captain Nickerson, who knew there was a 
good reason for the pointed pole that hung 
from the rear axle, with the peaked end rest¬ 
ing on the ground, where it dragged in the 
dust of the roadway as the car proceeded. 

“I’ll tell ye,” began Joel. “That’s Peter’s 
idee. Yer see, when Peter fust learnt to 
drive, he was skittish. Peter’s old, Peter 
is—” 

“I ain’t but four days older’n you be,—” 
broke in Peter. 

“Now, boys, boys,” remonstrated Captain 
Nickerson, “don’t start quarrelin’. Every- 
buddy knows that you’re spryer than colts, 


164 


HEAVE SHORT 


the both of ye. Go ahead with your story, 
Joel.” 

“Yep, Joel,” snapped Peter, “most of it is 
a darned lie, but go ahead with it.” 

Undisturbed by his brother captain’s caustic 
remark, Captain Joel continued. “As I say, 
Peter was skittish. He gut on to steerin’ her 
purty quick,—she minds her helm fust rate 
and steers jest like a schooner, but this shiftin’ 
speeds was what bothered him. Fust off 
every time Peter tried to shift gears, as they 
call it, there was the darndest gratin’ and 
poundin’ down in her lower hold you ever 
heard. Sounded as though she was bumpin’ 
right along on bottom and was goin’ to tear 
her keelson out, any minute. The feller that 
learnt us showed him what the trouble was, 
so that passed off, but sometimes when he tried 
it half way up a hill, she’d jest stand still for 
a minute with her sails all aflutter. We was 
afraid that sometime she’d start driftin’ astern 
and mebbe bump into some shoal water. 

“One day we started out, with Pete drivin’; 
and I’ve gut to admit that Peter handled her 
like a man with fust officer’s papers. He 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 165 

tacked and sailed ’fore the wind,—didn’t seem 
to make no difference to him. When we gut 
along to Jabez Holland’s old place, there’s a 
turn jest ’fore you start to go up the hill, if 
you recerllect. Wal, he had to take in a leetle 
sail goin’ ’round the curve, and when he struck 
the risin’ ground he tried to shift gears and 
her pumps stopped workin’ and she broached, 
driftin’ off her course down over the edge of 
the road towards Jabez’s parstur. 

“Wal, ’twas lafferbul,” cackled the old 
man. “I thought to myself, what a joke it 
will be on Peter, if we pile up agin a stone 
wall or sunthin’. Peter, he began to holler 
and work all the dinguses in sight, and still 
she kept draggin’. Peter kinder fergut him¬ 
self, you know, he’s alius talkin’ about this 
’ere automobile as though she was a boat. 
‘Throw out t’other anchor,’ he yelled to me. 
Nuther one of us thought of the brakes, all 
we thought of was keepin’ her clear of the 
rocks, for the channel runs purty narrer down 
in Jabez’s parstur lane. Pete kept her stern 
fust down the lane, and managed to keep clear 
of green water till we come to the gate. When 


166 


HEAVE SHORT 


he see we was goin’ to strike, Peter yelled, 
‘Take to the life boats. Women and children 
fust,’ ” laughed the diminutive Captain Joel. 

“Bang! There was a splinterin’ of wood 
and the thing stopped. We’d shattered the 
gate but our craft was stopped. After that 
scrape, Peter gut the idee of this drag, out 
behind. Yer see, with this pike hung down to 
the ground at an angle from the ex, the min¬ 
ute she begins to start astern, the sharp pike 
takes holt and there she stops.” 

“Fust rate idee,” declared Uncle Seth. 
“Do you alius tie her up when you leave her, 
as you did here?” 

“Most alius,” said Captain Peter. “Yer 
see, Sethie, we’ve been used to lines so long 
that we’ve gut considerbul confidence in good 
hemp rope,—more’n we have in the stoppin’ 
in’ards of this ’ere automobile.” 

“What you doin’, buildin’ a boat, Seth?” 
asked Joel. 

“What did you think he’s doin’, cuttin’ a 
dress pattern?” asked Captain Peter sarcasti¬ 
cally, nudging Uncle Seth in the ribs with 
his elbow. 


CAP’N PETER AND CAP’N JOEL 167 


“Sethie, as Peter grows older, it beats all 
how smart he gits,” said Captain Joel, casting 
a sad glance at the chuckling Peter. 

“Alius was smart,” grinned Uncle Seth. 
“Yes, Joel, I’m tryin’ to build a boat. S’pose 
I’ll git her tight?” 

“If you can’t git her tight no other way, 
you can do the same as Cap’n Elphalet 
Sturgis told the feller one time,” suggested 
Peter. “This feller had lots of trouble with 
his boat leakin’. One would tell him that she 
*must leak along her garb’ud and another said 
he believed it was her centerboard box. He 
caulked here, and he caulked there, but she’d 
fill up in twenty four hours the best he could 
do, 

“One day Cap’n Elphalet come along where 
the feller was workin’ on her and he appealed 
to the Cap’n to know what he should do to 
stop her leakin’. 

“The Cap’n stuck his knife blade into her 
hull, clear up to the handle,—she was soft 
and punky clear through. ‘Wal,’ says Cap’n 
Elphalet, ‘ef she was mine, I’d shingle 
her.’ ” 


168 


HEAVE SHORT 


“I may have to do that,” laughed Captain 
Nickerson. 

Stories and jokes flew thick and fast for 
an hour or more when Captain Peter pulling 
a huge silver watch from his pocket ex¬ 
claimed, “J°d> did you know it’s nigh onto 
eleven o’clock? Time to be goin’. No, 
thank ye, Sethie, can’t stop to dinner today. 
We’ll be up again. Now we’ve gut this 
gasolene contraption, we’ll see ye real often.” 

Now, Peter,” said Joel, once they were 
in the yard, “lemme git to the wheel. Heave* 
short and h’ist yer jib.—Good bye! Here’s 
hopin’ we don’t git becalmed.” And the 
gasolene craft,” filled away on her course. 


CHAPTER XIV 
A PAIR OF CROOKS 

S AM and Uncle Seth were coming from the 
post office when they met Eben Bates the 
stage driver. 

“Mornin’, Cap’n Seth,” called Eben. 
“Mornin’, Eb,” answered the Captain. 
“Fair wind with ye this mornin’?” 

“Yep,” said Eben, “fair wind and nary a 
cloud in the sky. Look here, how’s this look 
to ye?” he asked, pulling some bank notes 
from his pocket. 

“Looks good, Eb,” grinned the Captain. 
“Been openin’ the mail bags?” 

“I ain’t at liberty, yit, to tell ye jest where 
I gut it, but my advice is to buy some Eastern 
Shellfish stock and mebbe you’ll have sunthin’ 
like it yourself. There, I ain’t told ye nothin’, 
have I?” he chuckled. “Never had to turn my 
hand over to git this.” 

169 


170 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Reckon you had to turn the money you 
gut from that parstur lot over, though, Eben,” 
said Uncle Seth, with a shake of his head. 

“The folks I deal with don’t bother with 
no checks nor nothin’. Jest hand over the 
cold hard cash. I know some others that 
have had money cornin’ to ’em jest like this 
and they’re tellin’ some of their friends, so 
I’ll pass the word along to you. I ain’t told 
ye where I got it, though, have I?” he said, 
mysteriously, as he walked off. 

“What do you make out of that?” asked 
Sam, as they continued down the street. “Do 
you suppose the Shellfish Company amounts 
to something, after all?” 

“No, I don’t, Sam,” said Uncle Seth. 
“This passin’ out dividends in cash would tell 
me that, if I had any doubt about it before. 
This money is jest a bait so folks will hear 
about it and Hastings can sell some more 
stock. He’s cute enough not to pay by check 
so that if anything comes up he could swear 
that he hadn’t ever paid ’em a cent. I heard 
the other day that a feller tried to buy some 
more stock and Hastings wouldn’t let him 


A PAIR OF CROOKS 


171 


have it for less than a hundred and twenty 
dollars a share. I tell ye, they’re workin’ 
this thing for all its wuth. 

“Mebbe, these fellers will git rich quick, 
like they think, but I’m thinkin’ they’ll be 
cryin’ baby in ten months. They won’t git 
my oyster grant unless they give me a good 
price for it in cash, and then, I don’t know as 
I’d sell, for I like to see such things owned 
by our home folks. Oysters and cranberries 
are two things that keep Cape Cod goin’ and 
give a good many of our folks a livin’ and 
there ain’t no reason why outsiders need to 
come down here and take the bread and butter 
from our folks.” 

“Of course, I don’t know much about such 
things,” said Sam, “but that Hastings is too 
slick looking to make me have much con¬ 
fidence in him.” 

“Me, too, Sam,” agreed the old man. 

“There ain’t no lawyer here at Saquoit that 
could do anything about it. Squire Bedly is 
hand and glove with them promoters and I 
reckon they’ve give him quite a bit of busi¬ 
ness and I hear they’ve retained him as their 


172 


HEAVE SHORT 


local attorney. So he’s sewed up, so to speak.” 

“Father’s attorney, Mr. Morton, isn’t sewed 
up,” declared Sam, “and he’s just the kind of 
man who would go to any end to protect the 
local people in a scheme of this kind, for 
nothing.” 

“Must be a curious kind of a lawyer,” said 
Uncle Seth, with a dubious shake of his head. 

“Oh! he’s a great chap. Father thinks the 
world of him, and he says he’s absolutely 
honest. Has so much money himself that he 
doesn’t need to work, but keeps on for the 
love of the game.” 

“Well, I’m glad your father has got him 
to take holt of it. I hope he’ll do sunthin’ 
purty quick, ’fore Hastings skips out with 
all the money. I won’t lose nothin’ out of it, 
if the whole thing goes to smash, but I feel 
as though I ought to protect my neighbors 
from their own greediness. Some folks, you 
know, that would haggle and dicker about the 
price of eggs, will let some slick feller come 
along and fool ’em good with any scheme 
like this. He can talk ’em into anything by 
big promises. They ain’t satisfied to let a 


A PAIR OF CROOKS 


173 


dollar go out and earn a reasonable livin’, like 
four or five cents a year. They want to work 
it to death and bring in twenty cents. I 
figger you can overwork a dollar jest as much 
as you can a man.” 

“I saw Hastings talking to John Water- 
bury the other day. Do you think he could 
get him into it?” 

“By thunder and guns! if he does and the 
thing falls through, Hastings ought to be rid 
out of town on a rail. John has got a little 
money, mebbe three or four thousand, that 
he and his wife Tabithy has saved and now 
she’s crippled up with rheumatiz and can’t 
hardly git around. John works for some of 
the summer folks by the day, and goes oyster- 
in’ in the winter and they git along purty well, 
but if he should lose that three thousand, the 
courage would be clean took out of him. I’m 
goin’ over to see John right after dinner and 
see if that Hastings has got his hands on that 
money. If he has, I can’t do nothin’, but 
if he ain’t, I think I can persuade John to let 
the stuff alone. He’ll listen to me, unless the 
promoter has got him hypnotized, same as he 


174 


HEAVE SHORT 


has a lot of ’em. Oh why can’t these city 
fellers let us alone down here!” he sighed 
mournfully. 

“Tom says there is another promoter sell¬ 
ing stock over in Masonville in this thing, 
too,—man by the name of Brander. He’s 
got some of the oyster men there to sell their 
grants and take stock in payment.” 

“Oh, I suppose they’ll milk us all dry if 
they can. Dum ’em!” said the old man 
wrathfully. 

At this same time Hastings and his partner 
Brander were closeted in Hastings’ bedroom 
at the Wescusset House. 

“Look here, Jim,” said Hastings to Brander, 
a short puffy man of forty-five, “you ain’t 
workin’ that Masonville crowd as you should. 
Make ’em come across with some dough. If 
you just get the grants and pay ’em in stock, 
where does that get us, I ask you? Nowhere. 
Get ’em to buyin’ more stock for cash money. 
Why, I’ve got ’em feedin’ out of my hand 
over here. The easiest bunch of hicks I ever 
run up against. There’s only two that I can’t 
land and I know that they’ve both got a bunch 


A PAIR OF CROOKS 


175 


of kale. This old man Nickerson is one. If 
I could land his grant, I’d have a lot more 
folks buying. He seems to be the bell cow 
in this neck of the woods and he’s the one I 
want to land and then I’ll clean up quick.” 

“They’re a wise bunch over in Mason- 
ville,” complained Brander. 

“Wise, nothing! Think how we went into 
little old New York and cleaned up on 
that—” 

“Oh, yes, I know,” Brander interrupted. 
“And think how we’ve had to keep under 
cover for two years before we dared start any¬ 
thing. I haven’t dared go to New York 
since. There was money in it for us, but I 
would like one more sight of Broadway.” 

“Cold feet, eh,” sneered Hastings. 

“No, I ain’t got cold feet, but I don’t 
hanker about spendin’ a vacation on the 
Island.” 

“Not a chance of it, old man. Buck up. 
I’ve been in the game from sellin’ admission 
tickets to Central Park, when I needed the 
money, to floatin’ a proposition like this that’ll 
clean us up an easy fifty thousand bucks apiece, 


176 


HEAVE SHORT 


and I’ve never done time yet. I tell you they 
haven’t a thing on us here. We haven’t put 
a thing on paper, remember that. Not a 
statement on paper that they can pin on us. 
What we’ve said to ’em, we’ve said alone. 
Delaware is a good way from here. There 
ain’t a guy in town that is sharp enough to 
look into it. Those dividends in good hard 
money we gave out, have got ’em all clam¬ 
oring for more stock and I’m going out and 
mark it up another ten points. This is a 
good way from the red lights and the big 
noise. It isn’t as though there was a federal 
agent looking around every corner.” 

“I tell you, they don’t seem to want to put 
any money into it in Masonville,” protested 
Brander. “I’ve bought all the grants I could, 
but I’ve always had to give ’em part cash 
and nobody wants to buy any more. I guess 
you’ve got to come over there and see what 
you can do.” 

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded 
Hastings. “This is the town I was supposed 
to work, and you, Masonville. That’s your 


A PAIR OF CROOKS 


177. 


job. I’m doing my work here, all right. 
Why should I come and do part of yours and 
then split fifty fifty? Tell me that” His 
eyes glittered and he looked an altogether dif¬ 
ferent person than the smooth, suave, smiling 
gentleman who talked with Uncle Seth a few 
days before. 

“Now, don’t git sore, Bill. I’ll agree that 
you’re a smoother guy than I am. We’re in 
this thing together and if I can’t pull off what 
you think I ought to on my end, why, it’s no 
more than fair for you to jump in for a few 
day and help me out.” 

“Yes, I’ll do it, but we’ll split two and one. 
I get two thirds and you one third. What 
do you say?” 

“I say, nothing doing,” drawled Brander 
and he looked knowingly at the other. 

“You don’t mean you’d squeal?” demanded 
Hastings, threateningly. 

“Nothing but,” responded his companion, 
coolly. “Nobody has got anything on me. I 
could say I was working for you and thought 
it was all above board. With you it’s dif- 


178 


HEAVE SHORT 


ferent. They are still looking for you for 
the—” 

“Never mind going into details. You’d be 
a squealer. Throw down a pal. That’s the 
kind—” 

“Never mind that stuff. Look here, Bill. 
You talk about squealing and throwing down 
a pal. How about you telling me about sell¬ 
ing stock to this one and that one for a hun¬ 
dred and five and a hundred and ten, when I 
know that you sold fifty shares this morning 
at one hundred and thirty. How about that, 
hey? Squealing, bosh! Now, I’m onto you, 
Bill Hastings, and hereafter you come clean 
to me, you hear, or—” and he tapped his hip 
pocket significantly. 

Smiling again, Hastings patted the fleshy 
one upon the shoulder. “Now, Jim, let’s not 
quarrel. It won’t pay to have any hard 
feelings.” 

“It won’t pay you to try throwin’ any bull 
to me,” Brander growled. 

“I’ll go to Masonville tomorrow or next 
day,” promised Hastings, “and show you how 
to get blood out of these turnips. How’s that? 


A PAIR OF CROOKS 


179 


I never meant to hold out any of the dough on 
you, Jim. I was saving it as a little extra 
bunch of money for you. Come on. Let’s 
get at ’em.” 



CHAPTER XV 

A STRANGER AT SAQUOIT 

S AM walked about the depot platform 
impatiently. The train from Boston, 
which was to bring his father and mother to 
Saquoit, must be late. He looked at his watch 
for the twentieth time. Three minutes to 
train time. It seemed as though he had 
waited two hours already, but he knew that 
it had been hardly fifteen minutes. As he 
stood there with the soft, fresh breeze blowing 
upon his bronzed cheeks and ruffling his un¬ 
covered hair, he realized just how much he 
had missed his father and mother. He had 
been so busy, and his days had been so full 
of fun and excitement, that he had scarcely, 
had time for being lonesome, but now that 
they were coming the minutes dragged wear¬ 
ily. There were so many things to tell them; 
so many things to show them. Why didn’t 
that train come? 


A STRANGER AT SAQUOIT 181 

“Thar she comes,” cried the baggage 
master, wheeling a truck out upon the plat¬ 
form. 

As the train loudly ground to a stop, Sam 
danced and hopped about, trying to look over 
the heads of the alighting passengers, to catch 
a glimpse of the familiar faces. 

There they were. Sam rushed forward 
and flung his arms about them both. 

“My, how brown you are!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Hotchkiss. 

“Isn’t he the Indian, though?” laughed Mr. 
Hotchkiss, giving the boy a slap on the back. 

Sam grabbed their bags and while Mr. 
Hotchkiss attended to their trunks, he led his 
mother to the waiting stage. 

“Well, son,” said Mr. Hotchkiss, as they 
were settled in the back seat and started on 
their ride, “how is everything? Been having 
a good time?” 

“You bet,” said Sam. “Did you bring my 
camera? Want to go sailing this afternoon? 
Shall we go fishing tomorrow? Uncle Seth 
is building a new boat and I am helping. 
What does Mr. Morton say about—” A 


182 


HEAVE SHORT 


warning glance from his father toward the 
driver and another passenger in the front seat 
cut short his last question. Sam had been 
going to ask about the shellfish company and 
what Mr. Morton, the lawyer, said about it. 

“Well, Sam,” laughed his father, “you ask 
so many questions all at once, I guess I’ll say 
yes to all of them and let it go at that. I’m 
down here for a good time, sailing, fishing, 
clamming, crabbing, tramping and anything, 
so, whatever you’re doing, I’m in on it.” 

“I want you to meet Tom,” said Sam. “He 
and I have had some great times together.” 

“Tom?” asked his mother. “Who is 
Tom?” 

“He’s a fellow that I’ve got acquainted 
with. He goes to college and has a little 
farm where he raises vegetables and berries. 
He’s a great chap. He’s working his way 
through college and has one more year. He’s 
young, too, only three or four years older 
than I. We’ve had some great times.” 

“Is he the boy who took you to the woods 
fire?” asked Mrs. Hotchkiss, anxiously. “I 
don’t like to have you around fire.” 


A STRANGER AT SAQUOIT 183 

“Sam can take care of himself, Mother, he’s 
a big boy,” his father said, proudly. He had 
heard, through Uncle Seth, about Sam’s rescue 
of Tom from the burning woods but he had 
kept the news from his wife, for he knew that 
like all mothers, she would worry, if she knew. 
Sam had not mentioned that part of his ex¬ 
perience at the fire in his letters, and that 
pleased his father, too. 

When the driver of the stage,—not Eben 
Bates this time,—had gone into the post of¬ 
fice at Craig’s Mills with the bags of mail, 
there was a lull in the conversation and the 
passenger on the front seat turned and spoke. 
“I beg your pardon for interrupting your 
family reunion,” he said pleasantly, “but I 
take it you are acquainted with Saquoit. I 
wonder if you would tell me the best place 
to stop for a week or two?” 

“The only hotel in this town is the Wes- 
cusset House,” replied Mr. Hotchkiss. 

“I would rather stop with a family, if I 
could. I’m not fussy about style. All I want 
is rest and quiet, plain food and a good place 
to sleep,” he said. 


184 


HEAVE SHORT 


As he was finishing his statement, the 
driver came out and climbed in. “D’you say 
you was lookin’ for a place to board?” he 
asked. “Wal, I’ll tell you of a place that 
mebbe you could git in, and that is Stearnses. 
Mis’ Stearns might take ye.” 

“You mean Tom Stearns’ mother?” asked 
Sam. 

“Yep, we’ll stop there on our way into the 
village. It won’t do no harm to ask her.” 

Sam liked the keen faced stranger on sight. 
He felt a desire to help him have a good 
time on Cape Cod. He, himself, had enjoyed 
it all so much that he wished every one else 
to. 

“I have a letter of reference from a friend 
of mine in Boston,” said the stranger, hand¬ 
ing a letter to Mr. Hotchkiss. 

Sam’s father only looked at the signature 
and exclaimed, “From Morton, eh? I know 
him very well. He’s my lawyer. I would be 
glad to help out any friend of his.” 

“I know Mrs. Stearns, Father,” said Sam. 
“I think she’d do me a favor.” 

“Go ahead, son,” said his father. 


A STRANGER AT SAQUOIT 


185 


“My name is Hatherway, as you will see 
by the letter,” said the stranger, “and I thank 
you, my boy. It’s very kind of you. I’m fed 
up on hotels.” 

Sam had no difficulty in persuading Mrs. 
Stearns to take an occupant for her spare room 
and the stage drove down the village street, 
leaving Mr. Hatherway at the Steam’s cot¬ 
tage. 

“Nice, bright looking chap,” commented 
Mr. Hotchkiss. “Seems as though I had seen 
him before. Face looks mighty familiar.” 

Sam allowed his father only time to hustle 
into some other clothes before he took him in 
hand. First of all, they visited the shop, 
where the new catboat was all ready for the 
glistening spars and rigging: then for the 
shore and the Cynthia B. 

“Now, tell me all that you know about the 
shellfish company,” demanded Sam. “It’s a 
mean shame to have Uncle Seth so worried. 
If he was like some men, he’d let the other 
people go ahead and sell their oyster grants 
and be taken in, but he wants to keep the 
Saquoit people from getting stuck, if he can.” 


186 


HEAVE SHORT 


“I’m not surprised, knowing Uncle Seth, 
that he should feel that way,” said Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss. “I’m satisfied that he’s right. The thing 
is a fake. Mr. Morton has laid the matter be¬ 
fore the district attorney and they will act just 
as soon as they have sufficient evidence.” 

“Hurray!” shouted Sam. “I knew it was 
the thing to do, to tell you about it. Uncle 
Seth thought you wouldn’t like to be bothered 
but I wasn’t afraid of bothering you,” laughed 
Sam. 

“That’s right, Son,” said his father. “You 
needn’t ever be afraid of bothering me, if it’s 
to help fight any business that’s crooked. 
Morton will take care of it.” 


CHAPTER XVI 
SAM LETS HER JIBE 

T HE next morning, Tom brought his 
mother’s new boarder down to show him 
the town, and Mr. Hatherway took the oppor¬ 
tunity to stop in at Uncle Seth’s, and thank 
Sam and his father, once more, for getting 
him what he declared was a delightful place 
to board. 

“Mis’ Stearns will look after ye well,” said 
Uncle Seth. “If you can stand Tom, here,” 
he grinned, giving Tom a dig in the ribs, 
“you’ll be right comfortable.” 

Presently, the conversation veered to the 
shellfish company; and, before Uncle Seth 
knew it, he was telling the stranger all about 
it. “There,” said the Captain at last, “I 
guess I’ve give you enough of that. You 
didn’t come to Cape Cod to hear all about 
our troubles. Sam, you and Tom better take 
187 


188 


HEAVE SHORT 


Mr. Hatherway out sailin’. Your father and 
I will jest putter ’round this forenoon, and 
talk things over.” 

Hatherway proved to be a good sailor, and 
seemed to enjoy his morning on the water to 
the fullest. The Cynthia B. “behaved purty,” 
as Uncle Seth would say, and the boys showed 
their guest all the delightful spots about the 
beautiful little harbor. He was interested in 
all they had to tell him of the village people, 
and asked all manner of questions. He 
laughed heartily over Captain Joel and 
Captain Peter and declared that Saquoit must 
be just the best place to spend a summer. 

The boys talked of Hastings and his shell¬ 
fish combine, of Uncle Seth’s opinion that it 
was a fake. To all this Mr. Hatherway lis¬ 
tened but ventured no opinion. Altogether, 
it was a very pleasant morning, and Mr. 
Hatherway assented eagerly to more sailing 
trips. 

That afternoon, Sam, having had a morn¬ 
ing on the water, decided to make it a day 
and spend the afternoon on the harbor. Since 


SAM LETS HER JIBE 


189 


Uncle Seth and his father were busy, 
Sam set out for his sail alone. There was a 
glorious breeze and as it struck the Cynthia B. 
on her quarter, dashing the salt spray into 
the boy’s face, he laughed with delight at 
the feel of the cold mist. It was a one reef 
day, but Sam had reached the stage in his 
sailing experience, where he looked with dis¬ 
dain upon reefing. It was well enough for 
beginners and girls to reef and carry a tender 
in tow, he declared, but after one knew about 
sailing, that was different. 

The Cynthia B. was ramping along in the 
outer harbor now; and, as Sam tacked skill¬ 
fully, and the little boat filled away again 
on her course, the water hissed and swirled 
in her wake. The stays, tight as bow strings, 
sang with the vibration set up by the wind; 
and Sam sang in his heart, as the catboat 
sped along, with lee rail under, into the rolling 
Vineyard Sound. 

He thought with a thrill of the return trip, 
before the wind. He loved to sail before the 
wind. With the sail wide spread, the boat 


190 


HEAVE SHORT 


seemed to hardly touch the water, but 
skimmed over its surface like a bird on the 
wing. 

Sam looked at his watch. “Gosh!” he 
muttered, “guess I’ll turn back or I’ll be late 
for supper.” He came about and headed his 
craft for the harbor. How she did race! 
Sam grinned as he thought how Uncle Seth 
would probably say that “she jest picked up 
her skirts and dusted.” The Cynthia B. scut¬ 
tled along over the dancing, white crested 
waves with a fine bone in her teeth. 

Reef? huh! who would reef with such a 
glorious breeze as this? The young skipper 
changed his course a bit to make the inner 
harbor; and, as he did so, quick as a flash, the 
long boom swung. Sam ducked, and put her 
hard over, but not quickly enough. The main 
sheet ran out with a whirr. Snap! went the 
mast. Suddenly, Sam found himself in the 
water, in the midst of ropes, spars and flapping 
sail. What a mess! He thought not a bit of 
his own safety, but of the poor Cynthia B. 
with her heavy ballast. “She’ll sink sure, 


SAM LETS HER JIBE 


191 


and Uncle Seth will be broken hearted,” 
thought Sam. 

The catboat was floundering about on her 
side, but she did not sink Then, Sam thought 
of the water tight compartments under the 
seats. These were keeping her up. Uncle 
Seth had put them in for just such an emer¬ 
gency. If he could only get her to shore! 
He swam toward her bow, and, grabbing the 
painter, struck out; but, as much as he kicked 
and hauled, the catboat on her side with the 
mast trailing, and her sails water soaked, 
would hardly budge. 

He didn’t feel so cocky now about jibing. 
Uncle Seth had told him to come about when 
he was running before the wind, if he wished 
to change his course; and now he had behaved 
like any landlubber, and let her jibe hard. 
Captain Nickerson could have jibed in safety 
because he knew “jest when to let her go, and 
ease her up,” but that was something that Sam 
hadn’t become proficient in. If he had had 
two reefs in, or even one the thing would not 
have happened; but reef? oh no! only girls 


192 


HEAVE SHORT 


reefed. He arraigned himself severely, while 
he was pulling frantically at the painter. 

“Now what would Uncle Seth do, if he was 
in this scrape,” thought the youthful skipper 
of the Cynthia B. “Why, he’d probably 
climb on the unsubmerged side, and wait for 
some one to come along.” It was getting 
dark, and the shadows were lengthening along 
the shore a half mile distant. He couldn’t 
see a solitary boat or person. 

“Ah! here comes a boat.” He could hear 
the put-put-put of the engine, and just then a 
long dark figure of a motor boat shot into the 
area of his vision. 

He didn’t want to cry out. That was too 
much of a fuss to make about just getting 
dumped overboard; and, besides, his cries 
couldn’t be heard above the noisy engine of 
the motor boat. He waved his arms, as he 
clung to the hull of the cat boat, and the motor 
boat swung over and made for him. 

It was Bill Hastings, who was just return¬ 
ing from Masonville, where he had been to 
give his partner a lift at “trimmin’ the hicks.” 


SAM LETS HER JIBE 


193 


“Ahoy! and all that sort of thing,” he 
yelled, with a grin at Sam on the overturned 
boat. 

“Ahoy,” answered Sam. “Give me a tow 
in, will you?” 

Hastings had stopped his engine, and was 
drifting up to the poor Cynthia B. “Surest 
thing you know,” and he smiled. “Aren’t you 
the kid I’ve seen around with Cap’n Nicker¬ 
son? Thought so,” he smiled. 

Sam slid off the hull, and swam to the bow, 
where he laid hold of the painter and handed 
it to Hastings. “Wait till I gather up some 
of these things,” he said, and swam after the 
floating oar and seats. As fast as he salvaged 
the articles, he threw them aboard the motor 
boat, and then he clambered in himself, water 
running from his clothing in rivulets. 

“You took a lot of trouble to get all those 
oars and things. I should let ’em go. They’ll 
float ashore anyway,” the promoter com¬ 
mented, as he turned his engine over and she 
responded with a sputter. 

The motor boat made rather slaw progress 


194 


HEAVE SHORT 


towing the heavy catboat upon her side in the 
water; but it was only a short way, and Sam 
was glad of it, for he didn’t wish to be under 
obligation to this man Hastings. 

“Cold?” inquired Hastings, as they pulled 
up near the wharf. 

“No,” answered Sam, shortly. 

“Sore that you tipped over, aren’t you?” 
said Hastings with a grin. “ ’Fraid the old 
man’ll give it to you good for breaking his 
boat up?” 

Sam was sore; but he wasn’t so afraid of 
what Uncle Seth would say, as he was sorry 
to be the cause of damage to the dear Cynthia 
!B. “No, I’m not afraid of what he’ll say,” 
answered Sam a little more pleasantly. “No 
need to be a bear, even if I don’t like the 
fellow,” he thought. 

“Just hired this craft in Masonville,” said 
Hastings. “Think I’ll buy her. She goes like 
a bird. Some old tub, I’ll say. How do you 
like it at the Cap’ns?” he added. 

“Oh, I like it fine,” said Sam, who could 
always be enthusiastic when it came to talking 
about Uncle Seth’s. 


SAM LETS HER JIBE 195 

“Nice old guy, the Cap’n,” finally said 
Hastings. 

Sam resented having Uncle Seth called an 
old guy, but he did not show his resentment, 
merely said, “Yes, he’s a fine old chap.” 

“Likes you, I could see that,” said Hastings. 

To this Sam made no answer. “Yefs,” went 
on the promoter, “nice old party, the Cap.’n, 
but narrow, very narrow. Won’t make money 
if he can help it. Suppose he has enough, 
likely,” looking to Sam for confirmation. 

Sam said nothing to this either but moved 
aft to seize the Cynthia's painter. He pro¬ 
posed to tie her to the wharf, just as she was, 
till morning. 

“Say,” said Hastings as they neared the 
landing, “you’re from the city, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, I’m from Boston.” 

“Knew it,” exclaimed Hastings triumph¬ 
antly. “Knew you didn’t belong to the 
crowd around here. They are a nice bunch 
of hicks, though.” 

Sam resented the term “hicks,” when it re¬ 
ferred to the people of Saquoit. He sort of 
felt that he belonged to them himself. 

J 



196 


HEAVE SHORT 


“It’s too bad the Cap’n won’t come in with 
us on this oyster deal and grab some change. 
I like him, and I’d like to see him make a 
good thing. I tell you what, you are from 
.the city, and know a whole lot more about 
business and all that than some of the men 
around here,” he said flatteringly, “wouldn’t 
you like to make a bit of change yourself?” 

Sam was not interested in making a “bit of 
change,” but he was wise enough to see that 
it might be of value to hear what the promoter 
had to offer. 

“Well—” he began. 

“It’s like this, the old Cap’n is stubborn. 
Thinks we’re tryin’ to put something over on 
the folks, I can see that, all right. Now he 
likes you. Can’t you initiate him into the way 
money is made in the city, and persuade him 
that this slow goin’ way don’t amount to 
shucks? He’ll listen to you. I’ll make it 
worth your while if you can drop him a word 
or two and have him come into the fold. 
How about it?” 

Sam was angry, so angry that his first 
thought was to tell Hastings just what he 


SAM LETS HER JIBE 


197 


thought of his rotten scheme. His eye trav¬ 
elled to the handle of a broken oar at his feet. 
How he’d like to beat up this slick appearing 
promoter—and then he stopped. “Losin’ your 
head, Sam” seemed to come to him from Uncle 
Seth. 

“How could I, a boy, influence an old man 
like him? He would think I was fresh,” said 
Sam craftily. 

Sam was amused, as he thought what a fool 
the man must be to think he would try to per¬ 
suade Uncle Seth to sell his oyster grant, or 
buy stock in the enterprise. 

“Easiest thing in the world,” palavered 
Hastings. “Have u smoke,” proffering Sam 
a cigarette. 

“No, thank you, I don’t smoke,” said Sam 
stiffly. 

“Not in public, eh,” laughed the promoter, 
pleased with himself. 

“Not anywhere,” said Sam. 

“Well, well, you are a good boy. Now, 
look here. How would fifty dollars strike 
you for winnin’ over the old man? You are 
a born salesman, I can see that,” said he 


198 


HEAVE SHORT 


wheedlingly. “If you succeed in selling the 
Cap’n even ten shares of that stock, I’ll give 
you fifty good, hard, iron men.” 

Sam was tying the Cynthia B. and said 
nothing. To him, who had always had an 
ample allowance from his father, and inciden¬ 
tally now had over three hundred dollars in 
the Saquoit bank, as his part of the reward for 
capturing the forger, fifty dollars was no 
temptation, even if he had the remotest idea 
of doing anything as silly as trying to persuade 
Uncle Seth to come into the company. 

“Make it a hundred,” declared Hastings, 
finally, as they walked up the lane, thinking 
that the lad was wavering. 

“I’ll think it over,” Sam said, as they parted 
at the fork of the road. 

“Atta boy, it’ll be a hundred easy money, 
besides doin’ the old man a good turn.” 

“Didn’t thank him for my tow,” said Sam 
to himself, “but, thank goodness, I didn’t 
spill the beans by ‘losing my head.’ ” 


CHAPTER XVII 

THE FIGHTING WHALE 
LTHOUGH Uncle Seth protested, Sam 



A arranged to buy another mast for the 
Cynthia B. to take the place of the broken 
one. He fully realized that he had been at 
fault, and it was nothing more than right for 
him to repair the damage. 

“I turned her just the least bit and over 
she went, Uncle Seth,” he said to the Captain, 
as they were unshipping the broken stick the 
next morning. 

“She yawed, ’fore ye knew it, most likely,” 
said Uncle Seth. “Runnin’ with the wind, a 
boat’s liable to do that, unless ye watch her 
sharp.” 

“Guess I was dreaming,” said Sam. 

“Wal, I’ll tell ye. When you’re sailin’ be¬ 
fore the wind, sometimes its better not to bring 
the wind directly aft because the boat’s yawin’ 
will like enough make ye jibe. That’s jest 


200 


HEAVE SHORT 


what happened. Sail with the wind on one 
quarter, and then if you don’t know how to 
jibe easy, come about, and have the wind on 
t’other quarter. Now I can jibe a purpose 
without trouble, ’cause I’ve sailed years where 
you’ve sailed minutes,” he finished with a 
smile. Not a reproach, not a bit of scolding, 
but just a simple explanation. That was one 
of the things about Uncle Seth that had drawn 
the boy towards him. 

“I must take ye out, and teach ye to jibe, 
proper,” went on the old sailor. “You’ve been 
at this sailin’ long enough now, and have the 
hang of it so’s you’ll ketch on.” 

“I guess there are quite a few things I have 
to learn,” said Sam, smiling ruefully. “I’ll 
know enough to reef next time there’s a stiff 
breeze.” 

“Sho, it might have happened jest the same 
if you had a reef in, though not so likely. 
It’s a good idea to reef a leetle mite ’fore you 
think you’d oughter, if you know what I mean. 
Takin’ too many chances sailin’ a boat is sun- 
thin’ like the Frenchman whose son was 
drowned. The Frenchman had told him not 


THE FIGHTING WHALE 201 

to take chances, but the boy knew it all, and 
one day they brought him home drowned. 
The Frenchman felt turrible bad, of course, 
and he says, ‘Poor boy, he know better next 
time.’ Sometimes there ain’t no next time, 
any more than there was with that boy. 

“Mebbe, it’s because I’m gittin’ older, but 
I don’t believe in bein’ careless, and I’m not 
so keen about not showin’ the white feather 
around the water as I was once. I don’t mean 
that sailin’ is dangerous; it ain’t, not a mite, 
you jest want to use common sense. 

“Speakin’ of takin’ chances, I see that lesson 
beat into a feller once. It’s quite a long story, 
so we better set down here on the wharf. It 
was in the seventies. I was master of the 
whaleship Mary Ellen . She’s the one I run 
for quite a spell. 

“I had a mate along with me by the name of 
Ben Porter. Ben was an able seaman, and a 
good mate, but he’d never gut command of 
a vessel, and all on account of one thing: he 
knowed too darn much. I took him on mate 
as a favor to Old Ambrose Porter, his uncle, 
who owned sunthin’ in the Mary Ellen . He 


202 


HEAVE SHORT 


was anxious that I should take Ben and see if 
I couldn’t git some of the cockiness out of him. 
He knew the sea, and he knew whalin’, but 
he somehow lacked a balance wheel, and it 
was all on account of him bein’ so sure of him¬ 
self and his judgment. 

“Wal, I took young Ben aboard, and, ’fore 
we started, he and I had a talk in which he 
confided to me that he ought to be a master 
right then, but things had worked against him. 
Oh, he was a good whaleman, he admitted 
it,” chuckled the old Captain. 

a I didn’t tell him that I knowed why 
he hadn’t sailed his own ship ’fore that. 
Thought I’d see how he acted on the voyage, 
and then I never believe in tellin’ a man all 
his shortcomin’s: it’s sometimes better to let 
him have his warp plenty long, and mebbe 
he’ll find ’em out himself. 

“We went along purty comfortable, with 
Ben tellin’ me, once in a while, how I ought 
to do things, but I didn’t git riled none. The 
men didn’t like him very much, but they only 
laughed at him behind his back, and that was 
as fur as it went. 


THE FIGHTING WHALE 


203 


“We gut up into the northern waters along 
in May, and things was busy with us. Ice 
was plenty, but we dodged the big bergs pretty 
well. Ben struck as many whales as any of us; 
but, I tell ye, when we gut back to ship and 
towed in the whales, we gut the whole story 
from Ben how he’d done the job. It was 
amazin’ how much he’d been able to pick up, 
about how everything ought to be done,” 
laughed Uncle Seth. 

“One day we gut afoul of a right whale that 
was a bad actor. Once in a while, we run on 
to what the whalemen call fightin’ whales, 
that jest go wild and won’t be killed. They’ll 
ram whale boats and cut up scanderlous. A 
whaleman knows them kind the minute he 
sees ’em, and if his judgment is good, he’ll jest 
leave ’em be and go on to the next one. 

“Wal, as I say, we sighted this lone whale. 
He warn’t the biggest whale I ever see, but 
he was purty good size. Two boats lowered 
for him, and, when they gut nigh enough to 
strike, I see from the ship,—I was stayin’ on 
board that trip—that he was a fighter. 

“A right whale ain’t gut any teeth, as 


204 


HEAVE SHORT 


I’ve told ye, but he strikes a wicked blow with 
his flukes, and sometimes rams a whale boat. 
A real lively one don’t need any teeth, I’ll 
tell ye. Ben’s boat struck this whale and he 
begun to act mad the minute he was struck. 
Stood on his tail, and turned his old head this 
way and that, lookin’ to see if he could find out 
what it was that hit him. I was watchin’ with 
my glass from the deck. 

“Instid of waitin’ to let the whale run, or 
sound, or sunthin’, and gittin’ him kinder tired 
out, Ben took in line and drove that whaleboat 
right for him then and there. He was goin’ 
to kill the whale right off, without any delay. 
I reckon he thought he would show me a thing 
or two about lancin’ a whale. 

“Wal, Sam, he drove that boat right up to 
the big black critter and says I, to myself, this 
is where Ben learns sunthin’ about whales. 
I hadn’t liked the way the old bull whale had 
been actin’, and if Ben knowed half as much 
as he pretended, he’d read the writin’ on the 
wall, too. Jest as they was pushin’ up to the 
whale, with Ben standin’ in the bow with lance 
ready, them big flukes went up in the air and, 


THE FIGHTING WHALE 


205 


Tore you could spit, they came down on the 
stern of that boat, takin’ it right off, and all 
the boat’s crew was catapulted up in the air 
more’n twenty feet. I could see ’em fairly 
flyin’. 

“I run up signals to the other boat to go 
to their rescue, in fact, they was nigh there 
anyway, and they picked ’em up without much 
trouble. In the meantime, the whale was 
nosin’ around too close to ’em for comfort, 
and strikin’ the water and pieces of the stove 
boat with his flukes. 

“When they gut ’em aboard, Ben was lookin’ 
purty sober; but he begun to tell how it was 
that he missed the critter, and if this thing or 
that thing had been different, he’d have landed 
him sure. 

“The carpenter said he thought he could 
repair the boat, if we’d git it aboard, as it 
warn’t altogether destroyed. 

“ ‘All right,’ says Ben, ‘I’ll take a boat and 
go after it.’ 

“ ‘Ben,’ says I, ‘you ain’t gut any intention 
of mixin’ up with that whale again, have ye? 
You ought to know that that’s a fighter; 


206 


HEAVE SHORT 


I could tell that jest as soon as you struck.’ 

“ ‘I’ll look out for him, Cap’n,’ says Ben. 
‘Mebbe he’s a fighter, but so be I,’ and he went 
over the side into the boat. 

“ ‘You let that whale alone,’ I called after 
him. He didn’t make no reply, jest as though 
he hadn’t heard me, and they made off. 

“Now the boat was between the ship and 
the whale; and, instead of stoppin’ when they 
gut to it, they kept right on toward the whale, 
and I see Ben in the bow again with his lance. 
The whale was tail to ’em, kinder flappin’ his 
flukes, still mad as a dog with a sore paw. 
Mebbe two boats lengths from him the whale 
veered around broadside to Ben and broad¬ 
side to the ship. 

“There warn’t no good for me to signal Ben, 
for he’d heard my order all right. Slow, the 
whale boat came up to the whale and Ben 
jammed the lance into him; only this time 
Ben yelled ‘Starn all,’ quick, for the big bull 
went rarin’ round and round like he was crazy, 
and I think mebbe he was. The harpoon line 
was still on the critter, but it warn’t fast to 


THE FIGHTING WHALE 


207 


nothin’ after the boat was stove; and this line, 
tanglin’ him up, maddened him all the more 
probably. 

“In his floppin’ and racin’ ’round he 
stopped sudden, and I knew he’d gut his eye 
on sunthin’. It warn’t a minute ’fore I 
knowed what it was. It was the ship. Down 
he come for us, straight as an arrer, and as 
speedy as a torpedor. I never see anything 
cut the water as that feller did. Say, he 
struck us so quick and with sech a shock that 
I was knocked flat. The whole vessel shud¬ 
dered and shook as though she’d been welted 
by a lightnin’ bolt. 

“I scrambled to my feet jest as the second 
mate shot from the bow with a bomb gun, and, 
sence the whale sorter stunned himself by hit- 
tin’ the ship, and was layin’ still, the bomb 
gun finished him, he lay fin out in hardly more 
time than it takes to tell it. 

“I called all hands below to see if the old 
Mary Ellen had been stove to pieces. We 
found a hole in her as big as a half bushel 
measure and the water cornin’ in purty lively.” 


208 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Then she didn’t sink?” asked Sam, who 
supposed that if a hole was stove in a vessel 
she sank immediately. 

“I’ll tell ye,” said Uncle Seth. “Jest as 
soon as I see this hole in her, I made up my 
mind that I could save her, if we worked 
sharp. The hole was in a good place for us. 
It was in the bluff of her bow. Now, the 
Mary Ellen was what the sailors call tender: 
that is, she’d keel over easy. I fust gut a small 
sail over the hole, and that checked the inflow 
of water considerbul; then I hove up the 
anchor—” 

“You didn’t think you could sail her with 
a hole in her bow, did you?” interrupted 
Sam, and in an instant was sorry, for Uncle 
Seth grinned. 

“That’s jest what Ben Porter said. Ben 
had come aboard jest then. 

“As I say, I hove up the anchor and gut the 
vessel right alongside a big cake of ice. I 
punctured holes in this ice and made fast my 
cuttin’ tackles to it. Then I hove ’em taut, 
broke out the cargo from the stove side and 
pressed it to the opposite quarter. She was 


THE FIGHTING WHALE 


209 


half full of water by this time; but you see 
when the cargo was shifted the water all come 
over to that side, so the hole was lifted well 
above the water line. The carpenter put in 
a new piece of plank, caulked, and coppered 
it, and after pumpin’ the ship out and puttin’ 
the cargo back where it belonged, there we 
was all hunky dory.” 

“Well,” said Sam with a sigh, “that was 
some experience. Wasn’t it lucky for you 
that there wasn’t any sea?” 

“The sea is alius smooth in those ice fields,” 
said the old Cap’n. 

“How did Ben Porter feel, after being such 
a fool?” asked Sam. 

“I tell ye, Sam,” said Uncle Seth earnestly, 
“Ben Porter was a changed man. We was in 
the Ar’tic all the rest of the season and you 
never see a feller that suppled down the way 
he did. He took right holt as mate, and didn’t 
try tellin’ me nothin’ about how to run things. 
When we finally gut home and gut all ready 
to leave the ship, he come to me with all his 
cockiness out of him, and wanted to know if he 
could ship with me as mate the next voyage. 


210 


HEAVE SHORT 


“ ‘Tell ye, Cap’n, I’ve learned a lot on this 
voyage,’ he says. ‘If I can go with ye another 
three year, and if you thought I’d done well 
enough, then I might try to git a berth as 
master.’ You see, I never mentioned the 
thing to him all the rest of the voyage. He 
was expectin’ a great goin’ over but I kept 
still, fer I thought, if that lesson didn’t soak 
in without a lecture from me, he was a hope¬ 
less case. But it soaked in,” chuckled Uncle 
Seth. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


TWO MORE VISITORS 

S AM had been to ride with Tom, away 
down on the Cape where Tom had 
heard they were raising asparagus with new 
methods of cultivation. It had been a long 
ride, and it was dark when Tom’s little flivver 
pulled up at Uncle Seth’s gate. 

“That you, Sam?” came Uncle Seth’s voice 
from the front porch. “Come right in, we’ve 
been waiting supper for you. Your father 
has got some company,” he explained, as Sam 
hustled in. “Don’t stop to change yer clothes; 
jest wash up and come along.” 

When the boy entered the lighted sitting 
room, there was his father’s lawyer, Mr. 
Morton, whom he had met before, and another 
man whom Mr. Hotchkiss introduced as 
Mr. Stetson. 

In a flash, Sam knew they had come about 


212 


HEAVE SHORT 


the Shellfish Company. “Wonder who Mr. 
Stetson is,” thought Sam. His father did 
not leave him long in doubt, but explained, 
in an aside to him, that Mr. Stetson was the 
district attorney. 

Sam almost shouted. Just think of it, the 
big fellow of them all taking up the fight. 
Maybe that wasn’t why they were here at 
all. Perhaps it was just a social visit with 
his father. No, that couldn’t be. He’d just 
wait and see. 

He had no time to ask his father further 
questions, for just then Aunt Cynthia came 
in and said that, if they didn’t come to supper 
pretty soon, it wouldn’t be fit to eat, as she’d 
had it on the back of the stove for an hour 
already. 

Sam was hungry, and his interest in the 
visit of the two lawyers affected his appetite 
not at all. He went at his supper as though 
everything tasted good: and everything did. 
His father spoke to Mr. Stetson and said, 
“See this,” motioning to Sam, “how’d you 
like to be able to eat like that?” 


TWO MORE VISITORS 


213 


“Heavens, wouldn’t I though!” said Mr. 
Stetson with a smile. 

Sam looked up grinning and said, “You 
can if you’re here long enough and go with 
me all day in the open.” 

“I believe you, boy,” said the district 
attorney. 

“Oh,” drawled Uncle Seth, “he’s moderate 
now to what he is sometimes. He some¬ 
times eats five pertaters with meat and fixin’s 
at a meal, besides three or four glasses of 
milk; but you see tonight he ain’t et but three 
pertaters and he ain’t goin’ to eat his berry 
pie at all, probably.” 

“You just watch me, Uncle Seth, and see 
if I don’t,” said Sam, who did not mind 
Uncle Seth’s chaffing. “If our cook at home 
knew how to make the food taste as good as 
Aunt Cynthia does, I’d eat like this the year 
round.” 

“There, there, Sam,” protested Aunt 
Cynthia, “I’ve et at your house and you have 
real good victuals. Don’t you mind Uncle 
Seth’s foolin’. A growin’ boy needs plenty 


214 


HEAVE SHORT 


of good victuals.” She was secretly very 
pleased to have Sam praise her cooking. 
She had no cause to complain tonight, for 
all the men, including the district attorney, 
devoured the hot biscuits and fried chicken 
as though they had had nothing to eat for 
weeks. 

“Mrs. Nickerson,” said Lawyer Morton, 
as he helped himself to another glass of the 
foaming milk, “you must think we starve at 
home by the way we eat, but I can assure 
you that I haven’t tasted anything like these 
biscuits since I was a boy.” 

“Me, too,” gulped Mr. Stetson. “I’m 
ashamed of my appetite. There’s something 
about this Cape air that certainly does won¬ 
ders to a man. I’ve been cooped up in my 
office for a whole year without a day off, and 
coming down in the car today put ten years 
on my life. It’s an imposition for Mr. 
Hotchkiss to bring us in on you; but I, for 
one, enjoy it.” 

“Have another piece of the berry pie, Mr. 
Stetson, it won’t hurt ye a mite,” beamed 
Aunt Cynthia. 


TWO MORE VISITORS 


215 


“Can’t eat another mouthful,” sighed the 
lawyer. “I’ll tell you what I will do, I’ll 
help you clear off the table and wash up the 
dishes.” 

“Me, too,” said both Mr. Hotchkiss and 
Mr. Morton. 

“No, you won’t, the idee! Besides, Melis- 
sey Adams is out in the kitchen now, waitin’ 
to do ’em up. I sent over for her, as I do 
sometimes when I git driv up. You men 
have got plenty to talk over. You jest go in 
the parlor and be company.” 

“By the way,” said the district attorney, 
“does this Miss Adams know who your com¬ 
pany is? I should prefer no one would know 
that I am here. I’ll tell you confidentially,” 
he went on in a low voice, “it is about the 
Shellfish Company.” 

“Oh,” breathed Aunt Cynthia,“I’m so glad 
you’ve come. That business has been worry- 
in’ Seth a pile. No, I won’t say a word. I 
jest told Melissey it was some friends of Mr. 
Hotchkiss.” 

This explained to Sam what he had been 
aching to know. This was getting interest- 


216 


HEAVE SHORT 


ing. If the district attorney was taking up 
this oyster business, Sam’s hunch about it 
being crooked was not so far out of the way, 
perhaps. 

The men adjourned to the “settin’ room,” 
under protest from Aunt Cynthia, who had 
lighted up the parlor. The men vetoed the 
idea of using the parlor, seconded by Uncle 
Seth, who declared that he never felt like goin’ 
in the parlor unless he was all duded up. 

“Now, Captain Nickerson,” began the dis¬ 
trict attorney, “tell me all you know about 
this Eastern Shellfish Company and its pro¬ 
moters.” 

Uncle Seth told them all he knew, and 
what he had heard about the village. 

“They haven’t published any circulars or 
letters, have they?” asked lawyer Morton. 

“Not that I know of. I haven’t heard of 
any.” 

“They are pretty careful about that. That 
was the first thing that made me suspicious that 
all wasn’t as it should be,” declared Stetson. 

“Do you know if they ever have had a 



TWO MORE VISITORS 


217 


third party witness the conversation, when 
they are talking with a possible customer?” 
asked Mr. Morton. 

“I was listening in the coal bin, sir,” Sam 
interrupted eagerly, “when Hastings told 
Uncle Seth about what a good business they 
were doing in Delaware.” 

“So you was, Sam,” said Uncle Seth. 

“Well, well, my boy,” said the district 
attorney, “tell us all you heard. You may be 
our important witness who’ll jail these fel¬ 
lows.” 

Sam recited the conversation, as he had 
heard it from his hiding place where he could 
look through the cracks and see Hastings. 
He told his story clearly, and when he got 
through the district attorney was much 
pleased. 

“I don’t mind telling you that I have had 
a man here in Saquoit for some time, gather¬ 
ing information for me,” he said. 

“A detective,” gasped Sam. “I’ll bet it 
was Mr. Hatherway.” 

“Well, he calls himself Hatherway here,” 


218 


HEAVE SHORT 


smiled the district attorney, “but his real 
name is Abbott.” 

“Abbott, why he’s one of the keenest crimi¬ 
nal investigators in the east. There couldn’t 
be more than one by that name. Do you 
mean S. S. Abbott, the famous detective?” 
asked Sam with his eyes bulging. 

“Yes, Steel Spring Abbott, we call him. 
I sent a good man because these crooked stock 
schemes are getting too common, and I 
wanted to get the goods on these chaps here, 
for I feel that they are no new hands at it.” 

“Steel Spring Abbott,” grinned Sam, “and 
we’ve been sailing with him and didn’t know 
he was a detective. I persuaded Mrs. Stearns 
to take him to board. Why, Tom and I told 
him all about Hastings, and all about the 
people who had sold their grants—” 

“I haven’t a doubt of it,” laughed the dis¬ 
trict attorney. “That’s a habit of his,—to 
get people to talk. I had a message from 
him yesterday, and he is about ready to spring 
the trap and catch his birds. I want to get 
in touch with him without it being known, 



TWO MORE VISITORS 


219 


for this man Hastings and his partner are 
slippery.” 

“Wal, you can’t git holt of him tonight, 
for I happen to know that he was headed for 
Masonville this afternoon and won’t be back 
before tomorrer. He was goin’ over there to 
go eelin’ with Eph Backus, though I don’t see 
what he wanted to go way over there for to 
ketch a mess er eels.” 

“He probably wanted to talk with this man 
Backus,” suggested Mr. Hotchkiss. 

“Sartin,” laughed Uncle Seth, “that’s it. 
Eph is one of the fellers that has bought stock 
and has been hollering for Hastings.” 

“We’ve spoiled their game anyway,” said 
the district attorney. “They have, or at least 
Hastings has, stated before Sam here that the 
company is doing business and making profits, 
when I happen to know that isn’t the fact. 
They haven’t so much as a shed in Delaware. 
That, in itself, is enough to send them up. 
But we want to get the money back for these 
people who have bought stock. I’ll have to 
wait for Abbott, so I guess I’ll run over to 


220 


HEAVE SHORT 


Bainrich or somewhere and stay at a hotel 
there, for Hastings might recognize me if I 
stopped at the Wescussett.” 

“Hotel nothin’,” snorted Uncle Seth. 
“You’re goin’ to stay right here. Why, I 
wouldn’t feel right if you went anywhere else. 
Termorrer we’ll go out to the Ledge and git 
some tautog or go crabbin’ or sunthin’. You 
fellers need a leetle fun mixed in.” 

“Of course, you’re going to stay here,” 
chimed in Aunt Cynthia, who had been listen¬ 
ing with bated breath all through the eve¬ 
ning. The ways of Aunt Cynthia had been 
quiet and uneventful, but all the talk of the 
district attorney had brought the pink of ex¬ 
citement to her cheeks. 

“I don’t believe I shall sleep a wink to¬ 
night,” she quavered as the men started off to 
their chambers. 

“So?” laughed Uncle Seth. “You’ll be 
snorin’ with the rest of us in three minutes 
after you git into bed.” 

“Seth Nickerson, you ought to be ashamed; 
I never snore, never, and you know it. 



TWO MORE VISITORS 221 

You’re the one that sounds like the fog horn 
when you git started.” 

Everybody laughed at Aunt Cynthia’s 
spirited attack upon the Captain, and it 
seemed to bring her thoughts back from the 
sordid paths of criminals and she allowed she 
“could mebbe git calmed down after a spell.” 



CHAPTER XIX 
AFTER BLUE CLAWS 

S AM decided that he would not mention 
to Hatherway that he knew him to be 
a detective. Sam wasn’t even going to tell 
Tom, though he knew Tom could keep a 
secret. No, sir, he was going to see just how 
an honest to goodness detective went about his 
work when he thought himself unobserved. 

He lost no time the next morning in going 
over to Tom’s. Much to his disappointment, 
Hatherway was not there. He had started 
out in the early morning for a tramp, as he 
explained to Mrs. Stearns, and might not be 
back before night. 

“Funny duck,” said Tom. “Pretty good 
scout, too. He never says very much. Re¬ 
member when we had him out sailing we did 
most of the talking. He’s quiet around the 
house when he’s here, which isn’t very often. 


AFTER BLUE CLAWS 


223 


Never talks about himself, what he does for 
a living, where he lives, or anything.” 

“Well, well, Tom,” said his mother, “there 
isn’t any reason in the world why Mr. Hath- 
erway has got to tell us all his business. He’s 
a nice gentlemanly sort of a man and never 
puts on any airs nor makes a complaint. I 
like him real well.” 

“Oh, I like him,” Tom hastened to say. 
“I was only saying that he’s odd.” 

Sam was just aching to tell them that they 
were entertaining one of the foremost detec¬ 
tives unawares, but he kept his lips closed. 

“We’re going crabbing,” said Sam finally. 
“Can’t you come along, Tom?” 

“I’d like to, Sam,” Tom replied, “but I’ve 
got more work to do than you can shake a 
stick at. Some time the first of the week I’ll 
be little more free. Then we’ll have to get 
in some fun.” 

Sam hurried back to Uncle Seth’s, and 
found all hands ready for the shore. The 
old captain had provided every one with a 
long handled net for snaring the elusive blue 
claws, and they were off. Mr. Morton and 


224 


HEAVE SHORT 


the district attorney wore sou’westers, both 
because it was a nasty morning, and also to 
further conceal their identity, should they 
meet any one who knew them in their ordi¬ 
nary garb. 

The district attorney proved to be a good 
sport. He insisted upon carrying his part of 
the dunnage, and, with his hearty laughter 
and jokes, Sam thought him quite different 
from what he supposed a district attorney 
would be. 

“What do you do with these hair nets?” 
he laughingly inquired of Uncle Seth. 
“Throw it over their heads?” 

“You tell him, Sam,” replied Uncle Seth. 
“Sam is gettin’ to be the champeen crab 
netter.” 

Sam explained to the lawyer how the nets 
were to be used, telling him how wary the 
blue claw crab is: that he moves in any di¬ 
rection with a speed and quickness that belies 
his clumsy appearance. 

“You’ll get on to it after a bit,” Sam assured 
him, “after you see how it is done ” 

“You ought to have had enough experience 


AFTER BLUE CLAWS 


225 


netting criminals,” said Mr. Hotchkiss, with 
a smile, “so you could catch a silly crab.” 

“That may be so, Hotchkiss,” replied the 
district attorney, “but criminals that I have 
had experience with didn’t have as many legs 
as Sam says these crabs have.” 

The Cynthia B. trailed two skiffs after her, 
for when they got teethe crab country the sail 
boat would be anchored and the party would 
use the smaller row boats. 

“There, now,” said Uncle Seth, as Sam 
heaved over the anchor, “we are here at jest 
the right time. ’Bout half tide, on the ebb. 
We ought to git a plenty. I ain’t goin’ to 
fish this mornin’. I’ll jest row one boat 
’round. Now, all hands git ready. Sam, you 
take Mr. Stetson in one boat, and I’ll take 
yer father and Mr. Morton in t’other.” 

Sam pushed the boat stern first, and the 
district attorney stood on the after seat and 
had a great time. He agreed that the crab 
is a deceiving little shellfish. When he 
missed one he didn’t seem to mind but laughed 
heartily at the ludicrous spectacle of the rac¬ 
ing crab. 



226 


HEAVE SHORT 


“I have you,” he shouted, as he made a 
swoop, and a kicking snapping blue claw fell 
from his net into the boat. 

“Sam, this is great sport, isn’t it?” he ex¬ 
claimed. “I’d like to stay down here for a 
month. Wouldn’t it be great to have a sum¬ 
mer of it?” 

“I like it,” said Sam. “I didn’t think I 
was going to when I first came, but I changed 
my mind pretty soon.” 

After a while, the lawyer insisted that, if 
they were going to beat the other boat, Sam 
would have to take a hand and let him row. 
Under protest Sam did so, and Uncle Seth 
had made no mistake in saying Sam was a 
champion, for soon the bottom of the skiff 
was alive with them. 

“We’ll leave ’em right in the boats till we 
git ashore,” said Uncle Seth. “Git aboard.” 

“Just to think of having a summer here,” 
reiterated the district attorney. 

“Guess we’ll have a good mess,” said Uncle 
Seth, on the way back in the Cynthia B. 

* ( You mean just the people at your house 


AFTER BLUE CLAWS 


227 


can eat all of these blue claws,” exclaimed 
Mr. Morton in astonishment. 

“I reckon, when they’re b’iled, with plenty 
of melted butter to pour over the meat, you’ll 
be surprised how many we can git away with.” 

“I think you misjudge our appetites,” 
laughed the district attorney. “I think half 
as many might furnish us all we could eat.” 

Uncle Seth laughed. “You think my judg¬ 
ment’s poor on victuals; wal, mebbe it is, any¬ 
way it ain’t so bad as a feller’s we had on 
board a mackerel boat one summer. 

“It was when I was a young feller, I went 
out with the mackerel boat one time, between 
whalin’ trips. We was jest about to pull out 
from the wharf when a feller run down to tell 
the captain that the cook was sick, or some of 
his folks was sick, or sunthin’, and couldn’t 
come. Wal, that was a great thing, jest as 
we was about to start and everybody in a 
hurry. The old man tore ’round some, but 
he swore he wouldn’t spare the time to go 
ashore and hunt up another cook. 

“ ‘Cast off thar,’ he sings out. ‘What’s a 


228 


HEAVE SHORT 


cook more or less?’ When we got outside, 
the captain yelled to one of the men up forrud 
and he went back. r You’re the cook,’ says 
the captain. 

“ ‘Cook?’ says the feller. ‘No, sir, I ain’t 
the cook. You’re mistook.’ 

“ ‘You’ve jest been elected,’ says the captain 
with a grin. 

“ ‘Who done it?’ says the feller. 

“ ‘I did. Git inter the galley, and work 
sharp, and git the supper ready.’ 

“ ‘Look here, Cap’n,’ says the fisherman, 
‘I can’t cook. I can’t b’ile water ’thout burn- 
in’ it on.’ 

“ ‘High time ye learned, then,’ snapped the 
captain; and the feller went into the galley, 
as bewildered as anybody could be. 

“He didn’t know what to git fer supper, 
and after pawin’ ’round amongst the packages 
and boxes he couldn’t git any idees; so up he 
come, and went over to the cap’n. 

“ ‘What’ll I git ’em for supper?’ he asked. 

“ ‘How should I know?’ says the old man, 
not wantin’ to be bothered. ‘Git ’em some 
b’iled rice.’ 


AFTER BLUE CLAWS 


229 


u ‘Guess I can b’ile rice, if all you have to 
do is to b’ile it,’ says the new cook. *How 
much shall I allow to a man?’ 

“ ‘I dunno, le’s see there’s fifteen all told. 
Oh, put in about a cup full for each man, 
guess that’ll be enough.’ 

“Wal,” grinned Uncle Seth, “he measured 
out fifteen cups and two or three more fer 
good measure and after he had put it in a 
kittle, his mind was easy about supper. 
Mebbe you know how rice swells when it’s 
cookin’,” he grinned, and all the men chuckled 
as they nodded assent. 

“After a while the rice commenced to swell 
in the kittle, till the new cook had to dish 
some of it into another kittle. Still the rice 
swelled and begun to overflow both kittles, 
and he kept dishin’ into other kittles, till he 
didn’t have no kittles left. Then he begun 
to fill other dishes. Purty soon he had the 
top of the galley stove covered. Then, as all 
the dishes on the stove warn’t enough to hold 
all the white swellin’ stuff, he begun to cover 
the table and shelves with dishes full of it. 
He had a marvelous lot of it. Finally every 


230 


HEAVE SHORT 


single thing he had was full and overflowin’ 
with b’iled rice. 

“Come supper time and he begun to cart 
that rice into the men’s eatin’ quarters: the 
captain et there too. The cook thought he’d 
give ’em all there was of the stuff, so he kept 
bringin’ it in. Pans and kittles and pots and 
basins, all full of b’iled rice. It covered the 
long table till there warn’t no room for noth¬ 
in’ else. Purty soon the men come in to eat, 
and the cap’n took one look at the pecks and 
pecks of b’iled rice. Then he hollered, 
‘Cookee, have ye saved any for yourself?’ ” 

The two lawyers were convulsed as Uncle 
Seth proceeded with his story. Sam and Mr. 
Hotchkiss laughed to see how well the two 
city men appreciated a story of the old 
skipper, the like of which they had long en¬ 
joyed. 

“Fifteen cupfuls,” gasped the district 
attorney, slapping Mr. Morton upon the 
back. “Did you ever hear the beat of that 
I’d give a good deal to tell that as you did, 
Captain.” 

Uncle Seth didn’t consider himself a story 


AFTER BLUE CLAWS 


231 


teller, and was quite embarrassed by the en¬ 
thusiastic manner in which his story had been 
received. 

As the party walked toward the house 
carrying the buckets of squirming crabs, 
Uncle Seth said in a low tone to Sam: 

“I should never dare to let Ben Peters tell 
them fellers one of his real funny ones. 
They’d have apoplexy sure, the both of ’em.” 




CHAPTER XX 
THE NET CLOSES 

<4 T WISH we had Hastings over here,” said 
* the district attorney that night. “Of 
course, I could send for him and bring him 
over; but if we could get him in not suspect¬ 
ing, we might, by a surprise attack, so to 
speak, have him blurt out something that he 
wouldn’t if he were arrested first.” 

Sam then told the district attorney about 
Hastings offer of a hundred dollars, which 
he had pretended to consider. 

“That’s the very thing, young man. Go to 
the phone and call him up. He’ll think you 
have reached a favorable decision.” 

Sam accordingly went to the telephone, and, 
after being connected with the Wescusset 
House, he asked for Mr. Hastings. 

“Hello, Mr. Hastings,” said Sam, “this is 
Sam Hotchkiss at Captain Nickerson’s, you 
232 


THE NET CLOSES 


233 


remember? Well, can you come over this 
evening?’’ 

“Sure, kid, have you landed the old man? 
Is everything all right?” 

“Yes,” answered Sam, with a smile on his 
lips, “everything is all right.” 

“Great work, Sam. You’re sure the swift 
worker. I’ll be over in a minute.” 

It was arranged that Sam should go to the 
door and admit Hastings. The others would 
be out of sight when the stock promoter came 
in. Presently footsteps were heard on the 
board walk outside. 

“Good evening, Mr. Hastings,” said Sam 
cordially. “Come right in.” 

He showed Hastings into the sitting room, 
where Uncle Seth sat by the lamp, reading 
the Advertiser. 

“Good evenin’, Mr. Hastings, won’t ye set 
down?” said Uncle Seth, affably. 

Hastings waited for Sam or Uncle Seth to 
make the first move. Uncle Seth cleared his 
throat and began. 

“I’ve been hearin’ about these ’ere divi¬ 
dends that some of these fellers have been 


234 HEAVE SHORT 

gittin’, who have stock in your company, and 
I want to ask some questions.” 

“Ask away, Cap’n,” replied Hastings cheer¬ 
fully. He felt that things were coming his 
way. He wondered how much money the 
old man would be good for. 

“In the first place,” began Uncle Seth, 
“where did the dividends come from?” 
Hastings didn’t mean to make any false moves, 
but now things were so near a climax he felt 
he was in no danger. 

“Came from our plant in Delaware,” he 
explained. “They are doing a rattling busi¬ 
ness down there.” He expatiated at length 
on the wonderful amount of profits that were 
being made in the Delaware end of the busi¬ 
ness. 

“Sho,” said the old man, musingly. 
“That’s better’n twenty per cent. How long 
do you think that’ll keep up?” he asked cred¬ 
ulously. 

Hastings smiled inwardly and outwardly. 
The boy Sam had certainly made the old 
captain easy to talk to. It was worth a hun¬ 
dred, if he had to pay it. “Keep up,” he 




Quick as a flash the boy made a dive, grabbing 

the promoter around the legs. 



























THE NET CLOSES 


235 


said, “why, my dear Cap’n Nickerson, there 
isn’t any end to it. We aim to take over the 
shellfish business all along the coast. It will 
be a big thing.” 

“That’s enough, Captain Nickerson,” said 
the district attorney, as he strode briskly into 
the room. “Talked more than I thought he 
would. It wasn’t necessary, we had all the 
evidence we needed without this.” 

“A frame up,” snarled Hastings, and made 
a dash for the door. Sam’s only thought was 
that this chap mustn’t get away. Quick as 
a flash the boy made a dive, grabbing the pro¬ 
moter around the legs, just below the knees: 
as pretty a football tackle as Sam ever made 
on the field. Both went to the floor, chairs 
were overturned, but Sam hung on. Just as 
Hastings was sliding his hand around to his 
hip pocket, it was Uncle Seth who brought a 
scream of pain from the promoter, by a force¬ 
ful backward twist that the old skipper gave 
his arm. 

A sharp rap at the door was answered by 
Lawyer Morton, and into the room came 
Hatherway, or Steel Spring Abbott, half 


236 


HEAVE SHORT 


dragging Brander, handcuffed, with his face 
white and drawn with fear. 

“Ah, Abbott,” said the district attorney, 
“I see you’ve landed your man.” 

“Yes,” quickly responded the detective, 
“and I would have landed Hastings, but they 
said he was over here. Why, here he is now! 
All right, Sam, get up, and I’ll put the brace¬ 
lets on him. There now, we have both and 
I’ve enough on them, Chief, to send them up 
for twenty years. Did you know they planned 
to beat it tonight? Got all the money in that 
little satchel. They had sold about all their 
stock, and were going to jump the night train 
for Middleboro and Fall River. Caught 
’em just in time. I find that Hastings is 
wanted in New York for a scrape he pulled 
off over there last year. His partner, here, 
isn’t in quite so deep, as far as I can find out.” 

“I wish you had some help so you could 
take them to Bainrich in my car tonight,” said 
Mr. Stetson. 

“I’ve got some help, all right. I have a 
chap outside that the Sheriff Barnes loaned 
me. He’s a walking arsenal,” laughed the 


THE NET CLOSES 237; 

detective. He opened the door and called 
out, “Hey, constable, come in here.” 

Out from the shadows of the porch glided 
Sam’s friend, Azariah Jackson, a revolver on 
either hip, and carrying his shot gun. His 
star glittered proudly from his breast as he 
stood in the doorway. 

“Hello,” said Uncle Seth, who had been too 
dumfounded by the excitement to speak be¬ 
fore. “Why in the Sam Hill didn’t you come 
in, Azariah? What you hanging ’round out 
there for?” 

“Never mind, Cap’n,” replied the constable. 
“I know my business. I was pertectin’ the 
several avenues of escape. If one of them 
fellers had ever showed himself outside that 
door, by the Jumpin’ Jeremiah! he’d er met 
me, and don’t yew fergit it. I was the last 
line of defense, Sethie.” With that he 
straightened up, and stuck out his chest to the 
bursting point. 

It was finally arranged that Constable 
Jackson and the detective should start for 
Bainrich immediately in the district attorney’s 
car, with his chauffeur. During the discus- 



238 


HEAVE SHORT 


sion of arrangements Hastings had said noth¬ 
ing, but looked from one to another of the 
company with a puzzled expression upon his 
face. 

“Say,” he finally burst out to the detective, 
“how’d you happen on our trail, way down 
here in the bush?” 

“Ask the Chief,” Abbott answered shortly. 

“I don’t mind telling you,” said the district 
attorney, “that I heard of you within a week 
after you began your work, through Cap’n 
Nickerson and this lad here.” 

“Gee,” muttered the crook, “this hick 
town ain’t so far from the red lights, after all.” 


CHAPTER XXI 
THE AUCTION 

WEEK had passed since the sensational 



Jr\ arrest of the two stock promoters. The 
village of Saquoit was never so stirred as by 
the news that the Eastern Shellfish Company 
had been dissolved. The news came to the 
inhabitants first through the fact that numer¬ 
ous citizens had received summons to appear 
in Court, and give testimony in the case of 
the Commonwealth versus Hastings and 
Brander. These notices caused much un¬ 
easiness. What did it mean? Those who 
had been loudest in their praises of the stock 
company were now the most uneasy. 

Almost without exception they brought 
their trouble to Uncle Seth. The old Cap¬ 
tain took no advantage of their fright to say, 
“I told you so.” No word of censure came 
from the old skipper. He patiently explained 



240 


HEAVE SHORT 


to each one that the scheme had fallen 
through, and Hastings and Brander had been 
arrested. 

The two promoters were brought to trial 
and the evidence gathered by the detective, 
with Sam’s testimony, was so conclusive, that 
Hastings and Brander were given the maxi¬ 
mum sentence. When they should complete 
their term of imprisonment, the New York 
police were to bring an old charge of fraud 
against them. 

After the trial, when investors in the scheme 
had had their money and their oyster grants 
returned, the village relaxed into its former 
quietude. Uncle Seth and Aunt Cynthia 
were happy once more, with no shadow of fear 
for their friends and neighbors to bother them. 

“Wal,” remarked Uncle Seth, shoving back 
his chair from the breakfast table, “things 
seem to be purty well straightened out. 
Them two fellers are in jail. The folks have 
all gut back their money and their oyster 
grants, and it’s a sunny mornin’. I’m, goin’ 
over to Lem Henrick’s old place to an auction. 
Anybody want to go along?” 


THE AUCTION 


241 


“Auction?” asked Sam. “What do they 
sell?” 

“Everything from clothespins to yearlin’ 
heifers,” grinned Uncle Seth. “Didn’t you 
ever go to a real out and out country auction?” 

Sam admitted that he never had. His 
father and mother also said they had not at¬ 
tended an auction since they were children. 

“What do you say we all go?” suggested 
Mr. Hotchkiss. “I’ll get a car and take you 
all over.” 

“Fine,” agreed Sam. 

The ladies discussed it, and finally decided 
that they, too, would go. “There may be 
some antiques that I could buy,” said Sam’s 
mother. 

“Wal,” said Captain Nickerson, slowly, 
“I guess everything they’ve gut on the place 
is old enough to suit anybody. Even the pair 
of horses that’s up for sale is so old they have 
to lean against one another to keep from 
failin’ down. Yes, I guess there’ll be antiques 
enough to suit you. The place used to be 
kept up and was a good farm; but late years 
there ain’t been nobuddy live there but two 




242 


HEAVE SHORT 


old maid sisters, and now they’ve gone to 
Middleboro and bought a smaller place in the 
village, and have their niece live with ’em 
that teaches school over there. I can remem¬ 
ber when it was a purty prosperous farm, as 
farms went on Cape Cod in them days. The 
old man Lem was a worker, but when the 
young man took holt he warn’t no farmer. 
Young Lem—he warn’t so very young neither 
—was an unpractical kind of a feller. He 
was more of a scholar than a farmer: thought 
a sight of books and lectures and sech. The 
old man wanted him to come home and stay, 
’cause he was gittin’ old. There was some 
money, so he really didn’t have to make it 
pay,—which was lucky, for he couldn’t have 
made money, if he could have bought gold 
dollars for thirty cents apiece. 

“Dreadful unpractical, young Lem was. 
Done the queerest things, and folks got him 
into scrapes jest to laugh at him. He was 
purty nigh as bad as the feller I heard of once 
that had a lot of cobwebs up in his barn loft. 
It bothered him to have ’em there, and he 
asked some one how he could git red of ’em. 


THE AUCTION 


243 


The feller told him the only way he knowed 
was to tie a bundle of rags on a long pole, 
douse ’em with kerosene, and settin’ fire to ’em, 
hold ’em under the cobwebs,—not thinkin’ 
that he’d do it. 

“Wal, he done as he was told, and he gut 
red of the cobwebs, all right; but unfortu¬ 
nately he gut red of his barn at the same time,” 
he grinned. 

“Seth, I don’t believe a word of any sech 
story as that,” declared Aunt Cynthia. “You 
ought not carry your foolin’ too fur.” 

“I ain’t tellin’ it for a fact, Cynthy,” 
laughed the old man. “I’m jest tellin’ ye as 
it was told me.” 

“When shall we start?” asked Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss, glancing at his watch. 

“I tell ye,” said the old skipper, “I think 
it would be a good idee to go early and make 
a day of it, or stay as long as you want to. 
An auction is the grandest place to visit with 
folks you ever see. Perhaps you won’t care 
to do that, but it’s kind of a purty country, 
and mebbe you’d like to jest walk around and 
set under the trees.” 



244 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Sure,” said Mr. Hotchkiss, “what do you 
say that we make it a day? If we get tired 
of it, we’ll come home,—or go to ride.” 

Every one agreed that it was a fine plan. 
As usual, Aunt Cynthia began to think about 
something to eat, and bustled off to the kitchen 
to prepare a lunch, while Mr. Hotchkiss 
telephoned for an automobile. 

The farm of the Henrick family was half 
way between Saquoit and the next village of 
Quassett, and only about a mile from Uncle 
Seth’s cottage. “No need to take an auto for 
me,” declared the Captain, “I could walk it 
and never know I’d been anywhere.” 

When they drew up in front of the place, 
there were several people already on the scene. 
The house was larger than the ordinary Cape 
Cod cottage, and evidently Uncle Seth was 
right in saying that at one time it was a fine 
place. It was sadly in need of paint, but the 
beauty of its early days was very apparent. 
The door in the center of the front was 
flanked by side lights whose glass was, in its 
old age, irridescent. The fan light over the 


THE AUCTION 


245 


door also shone in various colors in the morn¬ 
ing sun. 

“What a wonderful house!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Hotchkiss. 

“It is a nice place,” agreed her husband. 

At the side of the barn a large orchard, 
with trees in need of pruning, stretched away 
on a slope, at bottom of which was a cran¬ 
berry bog grown up to weeds. Looking in 
the opposite direction, what took Sam’s eye 
was the lower end of Saquoit Harbor, spar¬ 
kling and blue. 

“Oh, Uncle Seth, does this land run right 
down to the water?” he asked. 

“Yep,” answered the captain, “this farm is 
a big one, as farms go around here. About 
sixty acres, I imagine.” 

“Sixty acres,” thought Sam, “that’s a whale 
of a farm.” 

“It can’t be more than a half a mile by 
water around to the wharf at Saquoit,” he 
remarked. 

“Jest about,” said the Captain. 

Soon they heard the ringing of a bell and 


246 


HEAVE SHORT 


they hastened back toward the house, for the 
sale was about to begin. 

“Now, Seth,” protested his wife, “don’t you 
go to work and buy a lot of truck. We’ve 
gut all we want around the house now. You 
know the last time you went to an auction you 
bought two barrels of old stuff, that we ain’t 
never unpacked.” 

“No, Cynthy,” he grinned, “I’ll be care¬ 
ful. You see,” said he, turning to Mrs. 
Hotchkiss, “I’ve gut what Cynthy calls the 
auction habit, and it’s wusser’n morphine.” 

“Seth, how you talk.” 

The auctioneer stood upon a box in the cen¬ 
ter of the large door yard with all sorts of 
goods and chattels piled around him. Beside 
him, seated at a table with papers and writing 
materials before him, was a man who evi¬ 
dently was to be clerk of the proceedings. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the auctioneer 
began, “this auction is to be conducted for 
cash. Pay your money and take your pur¬ 
chases away. No cash returned if you find 
you’ve been cheated; but you won’t be 
cheated, for you can examine each article 


THE AUCTION 


247 


carefully, and then Cavity Empty, or what¬ 
ever the law says about the buyer bein’ stung.” 

Sam figured out afterward, from what 
Latin he knew, that what the auctioneer was 
trying to say was Caveat Emptor, “let the 
buyer beware.” 

“Now, the fust thing I’ll put up is this gen¬ 
uine hand painted, all wool and a yard wide, 
set of buffalo robes. These are guaranteed 
not to split, ravel, or run down at the heel. 
How much am I offered?” 

Sam laughed, for he had not expected any¬ 
thing like this. The people knew the auc¬ 
tioneer, for presently some one attempted to 
offer a remark. 

“Hen, is there a sleigh to be throwed in 
with them robes?” cackled one old chap, dig¬ 
ging the ribs of a companion near him with 
his thumb. 

There was a general laugh, but the auction¬ 
eer was used to quips of this kind. 

“Hello, Sime, sure we give a sleigh, and a 
young lady to go drivin’ with, too. How 
much am I offered? Two dollars, two, two, 
who’ll gi’ me three? Two and half, a half, 


248 


HEAVE SHORT 


who’ll gi’ me three? Who’ll gi’ me three? 
Three I have. Who’ll gi’ me a half? A 
half, a half, a half, who’ll gi’ me four?” 

He was what was known as a capable auc¬ 
tioneer, and Sam was amazed at the rapidity 
with which he reeled off the jargon of the 
sale. It was the custom for auctioneers to 
talk fast and in that way to get the buyers 
more excited, and more feverish to bid. 

“Five and half, five and half, do I hear six? 
Do I hear a six? Now, Ladies and Gentle¬ 
men, the idea of these two robes, as good as 
they was the day they was bought, goin’ for 
six dollars. Who’ll make it a half?” he 
pleaded. 

“Ah! thank you, I have a half, who’ll make 
it a seven? Come on, Ansel, you want these 
robes; you’re feet are alius cold in the winter. 
Give me a bid of seven. Thank you. 

“Eight dollars. Do I hear another bid? 
Eight dollars and a half, make it nine, make 
it nine, eight and a half, make it nine. Eight 
and a half once, eight and a half twice, eight 
and a half—ah! I hear nine. Nine dollars, 
make it a half, make it ten, ten, ten, ten, make 


THE AUCTION 


249 


it eleven. Ten dollars once, ten dollars 
twice; do I hear another bid? Ten dollars 
three times, and sold to Ansel Pinkham for 
ten dollars, and may the Lord have mercy on 
your soul.” 

“Why, this is better than vaudeville,” 
thought Sam. He saw his father wiping his 
eyes. He had laughed so hard he had cried. 

After Sam had listened for a while to the 
joking between the auctioneer and the crowd, 
he joined his father and they walked over to 
the house. 

“This house must be old,” said his father. 
“Look at that wainscoting. One can’t get 
any such boards as these nowadays, Sam: 
nearly two feet wide of good, clear pine; 
wonderful.” 

The fine workmanship of the interior finish 
was evident even to Sam, who knew next to 
nothing about such things. His father ap¬ 
preciated it all. The winding staircase with 
its round mahogany hand rail, the huge fire¬ 
places with their cupboards and old fash¬ 
ioned brick ovens,—all of these Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss exclaimed over, again and again. 


250 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Look at these big square chambers, Sam,” 
he called, as they were exploring upstairs*. 
“See the view of the harbor from here.” 

This impressed Sam as no dado or wains¬ 
coting could. “Oh, Father, isn’t that great? 
Just think of sleeping here and having the bay 
to look at the first thing dn the morning. 
Gee! what a view.” 

At least three of the chambers offered a 
sight of the water. On the other side of the 
house they overlooked the orchard and mea¬ 
dow. 

His father stood looking out of the win¬ 
dow, lost in contemplation. Sam spoke to 
him several times but he did not answer. He 
just looked over the expanse of the beautiful 
Saquoit Bay with its sails and green shores. 
Sam left him standing there and went on 
about the house by himself. 

From the yard he heard the auctioneer still 
sing songing. 

“Thirty-five, gimme thirty-six. All done 
at thirty-five. Thirty-five once—” 

The hinges of all the doors were rough, 
—handmade Mr. Hotchkiss had said. The 


THE AUCTION 


251 


windows were small paned; the bare floors 
were of soft wood and the boards were wide 
and clear of knots. Sam opened the narrow 
door of a small cupboard and looked in. The 
opening was long, or rather deep, and smelled 
musty as he peered into the dark recess. 

“Left something here,” said Sam, as he 
pulled a book, which looked like an old ac¬ 
count book, from the dusty top shelf. Its 
edges were yellowed with age. There was 
something written upon the cover. “Journal 
of a Whaling Voyage on board the bark Or - 
ray Taft, V. B. Howland Master, which 
sailed from New Bedford May 18th, 1869.” 
On each day of the whaling voyage it was re¬ 
corded what happened. 

“Let’s see what they did the first day,” said 
Sam. 

“ ‘At 9 am got under weigh with a fresh 
breeze from the N. W. off Dumplin’ light— 
Wind canted to S. W., employed in beating 
out, securing the anchors etc., for sea,’ ” he 
read. 

He turned the pages and presently he found 
the black imprint of a whale in the margin, as 


252 


HEAVE SHORT 


though a rough wooden stamp cut in the 
shape of a whale had been used. Opposite 
the next day’s record he found three of these. 
That meant they had taken three whales on 
that day. 

“Gee, this is great!” exclaimed the boy, and 
settled down to read. 

Here was adventure first hand, almost. 
The log told of captured whales and stove 
boats, of men lost, and men put in irons, as 
though it was the merest day’s work. He had 
never seen anything like this. The boy sat in 
the dusty old chamber with the sun streaming 
in at the windows, living the voyage of the Or - 
ray Taft as she battled her way gallantly 
around Cape Horn. Now he was calling at 
some of the western islands for water and 
fruit; later he was fighting the ice floes of 
Bering Sea and the Arctic. There were reef- 
ings when Sam knew a storm was coming up, 
and he felt the heaving of the Orray Taft 
grow more violent. Would she ride it out? 
As staunch a vessel as ever took a whale—of 
course she would. 

The storm is passed. Once more the Orray 


THE AUCTION 


253 


Taft cruises about. Whales are sighted. 
The boats make off. Sam is pulling an oar 
with the rest. He is the one who strikes, and 
yells, “Starn all.” Then follows the mad ride 
after the milling whale. Thrice the giant 
mammal charges the whale boat. He is com¬ 
ing again. Sam twists and heaves— 

“Sam, what on earth is the matter, you act 
as though you were having convulsions.” It 
was his father who had come to look for him. 

Sam came back to earth with a jump. 

“Six, gimme seven, six, do I hear a seven?” 
droned the auctioneer outside. 

“Why, Father, I guess I got interested in 
this whale journal. Just as you spoke a whale 
was coming for the boat,” he laughed. “This 
t is great. I found it in the closet. Suppose I 
can buy it?” he asked with shining eyes. 

“See Uncle Seth, and let him find out for 
you.” 

“Guess they didn’t set much store by it,” 
said the auctioneer to Uncle Seth. “Gimme 
a half dollar and it’s yourn.” Sam paid the 
money and hugged his prize tightly. The 
auction had been worth while for Sam. 



CHAPTER XXII 

TOM STEARNS STAYS EAST 

S AM was waiting for Tom to patch an 
automobile tire. The car was jacked up 
in Tom’s side yard. Both boys were feeling 
rather mournful, for Tom would not be at 
Saquoit another summer. He had just re¬ 
ceived an offer, through the faculty of the 
Agricultural College, to go west next sum¬ 
mer after graduation and take a position upon 
a large ranch. 

“Gee, Tom, I’m glad that you have the of¬ 
fer, but I’m mighty sorry that you won’t be 
here. I shall miss you like everything,” said 
Sam. 

“I’m glad of the chance, too,” said Tom, 
“but it will be pretty hard to go. It’s the way 
of the world, I suppose, and since I have the 
education I need to go wherever I have a good 
opening. They can’t raise any better stuff 
out there than we can right here, though; but 
254 






TOM STEARNS STAYS EAST 


255 


the trouble is there isn’t a job here. Mother 
feels bad, of course, but she’s a good sport and 
doesn’t show it. It seems queer to feel sore 
about having a good chance to get experience 
in my line.” 

“You have a pretty good sized farm here, 
Tom,” said Sam, “why don’t you chuck this 
Oregon job and run your own farm?” 

“Why bless you, Sam, this farm of mine is 
only a few acres. You’d hardly call it a farm. 
I should feel that I wasn’t doing right to set¬ 
tle down here, just because Mother will miss 
me if I go away. If mine were a fifty acre 
farm, it would be different, but as it is,—no 
sir, I’m no baby. To change the subject, your 
father was up here yesterday. I never sup¬ 
posed he was so interested in farming. He 
went all over this place with me, and looked 
into every new scheme I’ve tried to work. 
He’s a great chap. I found myself talking to 
him a blue streak about my ideas of small 
fruits and stock and everything. He must 
have been bored stiff, but he was polite enough 
not to show it.” 

“You bet, Father’s a good scout,” agreed 



256 


HEAVE SHORT 


Sam. “I’ve seemed to get better acquainted 
with him in the two summers that I have been 
down here than I ever did before.” 

Mrs. Stearns came out where the boys were, 
and nodded pleasantly to Sam. “Tom been 
telling you about his good job out west?” she 
asked. “Isn’t it fine for him to have an op¬ 
portunity right away after he gets out of 
school?” 

“You will miss him, Mrs. Stearns,” said 
Sam, and in a moment he was sorry, for her 
face clouded. 

“Oh, yes,” she answered, with a bright 
cheeriness that her eyes belied, “but then, we 
mothers have to expect our boys to leave us. 
He’ll come back here once in a while.” She 
turned and went back into the house, and Sam 
could almost swear that her eyes filled as she 
turned away. 

“Cheer up, Sam,” laughed Tom. “Any one 
would think it was you who had to go out into 
the wild and woolly west instead of me. I 
haven’t got to go yet awhile.” 

“I do feel bad, Tom, and your mother feels 


TOM STEARNS STAYS EAST 


257 


bad, too,” said Sam. “I could see, for all her 
smiles, she didn’t like the idea.” 

“Oh, well, we will all have to get used to 
it.” 

“Git used to it,” called a cheery voice, “you 
can git used to anything.” It was Uncle Seth, 
and with him Sam’s father. 

“Tom is going west next June after his 
graduation,” remarked Sam dolefully. 

“So I heard,” said Uncle Seth, “but Tom is 
right, he can get used to it. Git used to any¬ 
thing, most. There warn’t ever but one thing 
that I couldn’t git used to.” 

“What was that?” asked Sam, laughing. 

“Camel’s hair underclothes,” said the old 
man, “when I was a boy.” 

“What in the world are camel’s hair under¬ 
clothes?” asked Tom. 

“Underclothes that’s all wool and prickly— 
Jimmynetty! warn’t they prickly! Folks 
alius wore red ones, ’cause they was con¬ 
sidered more healthy,” he grinned. “I re¬ 
member I gut some and everybuddy in the 
family said they’d be good for me, they was so 





258 


HEAVE SHORT 


nice and warm. Wal, they was warm all right. 
They pricked my skin so I didn’t have time, 
from scratching to be cold. 

“I was a little shaver, and I guess I whim¬ 
pered some when they was fust put on; and 
I’d go around pullin’ at ’em, tryin’ to git ’em 
as fur away from me as I could. I was purty 
miserable. Some of the grown ups laffed at 
me good for mindin’, but Jimmynetty! they, 
themselves, probably had hides like walruses 
and they wouldn’t have minded hoss blankets 
next to ’em. 

“Long about Thursday each week them tar¬ 
nation red things would begin to git a leetle 
more bearable; and then come Sunday morn- 
in’ and I’d have to put on fresh ones and have 
to go all over it again. My skin jest shivers 
now to think of it. 

“Mother soon found out that I was in mis¬ 
ery; and, unbeknownst to Father, she slid out 
a suit of light cotton ones and I put them on 
with the red flannel ones over ’em; and then 
I was as happy as a clam at high tide. Bless 
her heart, she practiced that deception on 
Father till them red tormentors wore out, and 


TOM STEARNS STAYS EAST 259 

then she see to it that I had some that warn’t 
quite so ha’sh,” he chuckled. 

Sam was feeling itchy himself, hearing 
Uncle Seth’s story. “Gee, that must have 
been awful, Uncle Seth. I’m glad I didn’t 
live in those times,” he laughed. 

“Gut that tire so’s ’twill hold, Tom?” said 
Uncle Seth, at length. 

“I guess it’s all right now, Uncle Seth,” 
replied Tom, screwing the cap on the valve. 

“Wal, it ain’t very often I beg for a ride, 
but I’ve took a notion that I’d like to go over 
the Oak Holler road. Have you gut time to 
take us all around there? It won’t take very 
long.” 

“Sure, I’ll take you,” said Tom heartily, 
“if you and Mr. Hotchkiss can stand riding 
in this old tin can.” 

“I’ve rid a rougher sea than she can kick 
up,” chuckled the old skipper. 

“The flivver is all right,” agreed Sam’s 
father. 

“ ’Tis for a fact,” agreed Uncle Seth, as 
they sped down the lane and out into the main 
highway. 





260 


HEAVE SHORT 


Presently Tom turned to the right, and 
Sam said, “This road looks familiar. This 
is where we went to the auction.” 

“So it is,” remarked Uncle Seth, glancing 
at Mr. Hotchkiss. “Le’s haul up here for a 
while.” 

“Yes,” said Sam, “here’s where I got the 
whale log book.” 

“Purty good old place, ain’t it?” asked 
Uncle Seth, his eyes taking in the weather 
beaten farm house and rough boarded barn. 

“You bet,” said Tom. “There’s sixty acres 
here of nearly all good land. An orchard 
that needs a lot of attention but could be 
brought up. It’s a corkin’ farm, all right.” 

“Think it is a good farm, do you, Tom?” 
asked Mr. Hotchkiss. 

“Oh, it’s great, or it could be made a great 
farm. Why, there are so many things that 
could be made to pay here. Poultry,—it’s 
near the water for ducks,—good orchard, 
cranberry bog, and lots of good tillage land.” 
Then he went on to dilate on the possibilities 
of this old farm by the side of Saquoit Bay. 


TOM STEARNS STAYS EAST 


261 


“Well, Tom,” began Mr. Hotchkiss, “I’ve 
bought this farm.” 

“Bought it!” cried both boys. 

“Yes, I’ve bought it,” replied Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss. “I’m no farmer, but I was born on a 
farm down in Connecticut, and I always have 
a feeling of content when I’m around one. 
I bought this farm with the idea of making 
it pay if I could, but to have loads of fun 
with it whether I made it pay or not. It will 
all depend on whether I can get just the right 
young chap to run it for me—” 

“Tom!” yelled Sam, slapping his friend on 
the back. 

“That’s what I thought,” said Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss smilingly. 

“Why,—why,—I,—” gulped Tom. 

“Oh, won’t that be great!” exclaimed Sam. 
“You won’t have to go west after all.” 

“Perhaps you don’t want to consider it,” 
said Mr. Hotchkiss. “There must be good 
opportunities in the west; but, if you do, I’ll 
pay you the same money you would have out 
in Oregon, and we can have the tool house 




262 


HEAVE SHORT 


fixed up as a cottage for you and your mother 
and sister, if you cared to live here rather 
than in your own house.” 

“Take it, sir?” said Tom, grasping Mr. 
Hotchkiss by the hand. “Why, I’d be foolish 
not to take it. This means a lot to me and 
will mean a lot to mother,” he said, earnestly. 

“All right, then,” said Sam’s father. “Let’s 
get out and look the place over,—although 
I did that pretty thoroughly at the auction, 
while Sam was mooning over that log book,” 
he added, laughingly. “I took U.ncle Seth 
into my confidence, and, on his judgment of 
real estate values, I bought the place privately 
that same day. The papers were passed 
yesterday, and now, I suppose, I own my first 
farm,” he smiled. 

Tom and Sam sprang out of the car and 
ran about the yard. Tom was so happy he 
almost danced, as he sped from one place to 
another. 

“I’ll put an architect on this house, right 
away,” said Sam’s father, “and I’ll let you 
confer with a good farm architect on the 
barns. You can put all your ideas on paper 


TOM STEARNS STAYS EAST 


263 


and submit them to me. You may have a 
chance to do a little thinking on it this win¬ 
ter, even if you are in school.” 

“Thinking on it!” exclaimed Tom, “I 
shan’t think of anything else. I can make 
this farm pay, sir,” he said, “pay my salary 
and some besides, I’m sure.” 

“Of course, I want it to pay, if it will,” said 
Mr. Hotchkiss, “but after you’ve given me all 
the farm products I want during the winter, 
and paid expenses, we’ll talk about what we’ll 
do with the surplus. Maybe it ought to go 
to the manager as an increase in salary.” 

“Gee!” was all Tom could say. 

There was great rejoicing in the Stearns’ 
cottage that night. Tom wired immediately 
declining the offer from the west; and, with 
the thought that he would be here in Saquoit 
with an honest to goodness farm to run, and 
the kindest of business men for a boss, Tom 
felt that his cup was running over. 



CHAPTER XXIII 
THE LAUNCHING 


u /^(OME on, Sam,” said Uncle Seth, 
“we’re goin’ down and christen the 
new boat this mornin’. Guess we’ll have to 
all hands look her over, and see how she rides. 
She’s in the water, all ready to sail.” 

“All right, Uncle Seth,” replied Sam, but 
his tone lacked enthusiasm. He had worked 
on the new boat with Uncle Seth, and he had 
come to feel resentment that any such beauti¬ 
ful craft should be sailed by some stranger. 
However, he wasn’t going to let it spoil his 
day. 

Mr. Hotchkiss, Sam’s mother, and Aunt 
Cynthia were all on the wharf looking at 
the new boat as she lay curveting to the west¬ 
erly breeze. 

“Isn’t she a dandy?” said Sam. 

“Looks pert, don’t she?” said Uncle Seth. 

264 


THE LAUNCHING 


265 


“Kind of a sassy little craft, now, and no 
mistake.” 

“She hasn’t any name yet,” said the boy. 

“No, so she hasn’t,” spoke up Mr. Hotch¬ 
kiss, “we’ll let the new owner give her a 
name, and you’re the new owner, Sam. 
Haven’t you guessed that by this time?” 

“What? Mine? Oh, Father! Uncle Seth! 
Who do I thank?” he shouted ungrammat¬ 
ically to both men, who were smiling at his 
eagerness. 

“Your father paid for every stick that’s in 
her,” said the old captain. 

“Yes, I did, but Uncle Seth put time and 
work into her that he won’t take a cent for,” 
said his father. “I persuaded him to build 
her, and now he won’t be paid for his work.” 

“You old fraud, Uncle Seth,” cried the boy, 
hugging the old man delightedly. “And you 
told me that it was some fellow up Boston 
way.” 

“Wal, yer father lives up Boston way, don’t 
he?” chuckled Uncle Seth. 

“Well, it is a surprise. Thanks, everybody. 
It didn’t occur to me that it was to be my boat, 




266 


HEAVE SHORT 


though I have wanted it times enough/’ he 
laughed. “Uncle Seth acted so honest about 
it, and didn’t want me to know who it was 
for, so I could honestly say I didn’t know 
when folks asked me. But no one did ask me 
though.” 

“Wal,” said the old man, “if they had, 
you could have honestly said you didn’t 
know.” 

“My! I never could have anything I’d like 
better,” he declared. “Mother, Aunt Cyn¬ 
thia, did you two know about this?” 

Both smiled knowingly, and said they did. 

“Well,” he bubbled, “I am glad I didn’t 
find out, though I was thick not to guess. 
She is a surprise surely. Why, that’s the 
name for her,” he cried, “Surprise” 

“That’s a fact,” agreed Uncle Seth. “Kin¬ 
der seems appropriate, don’t it? We ain’t 
gut no spring water to christen her with, 
but I don’t think much of breakin’ glass bottles 
in sech shaller water, anyhow. Clean sea 
water is good enough.” 

“You are the one to christen and name her, 
Uncle Seth,” cried Sam. 


THE LAUNCHING 


267 


“Wal, if you’re set on it, I will,” said Uncle 
Seth; and dipping a pail full of clear spar¬ 
kling water from the harbor, he dashed it 
over her bow and at the same time shouted, 
“I christen thee Surprise ” 

“Now for a sail in her,” cried Sam. 
“Uncle Seth, you are sailing master today. 
Everybody get aboard,” and with the old 
sailor at the tiller and the new white sail 
hoisted, the catboat Surprise started upon her 
first short voyage. 

A crowd of boatmen on the shore gave her 
a cheer as she passed out of the inner harbor 
over the bar. They knew she was a new craft 
to the harbor and their cries of approval 
warmed the heart of the boy, as the glistening 
boat sped through the water: Uncle Seth at 
her wheel watched her pull, with a smile of 
satisfaction. 

“Luff wants trimmin’ a leetle,” he said, 
as he looked the sail over critically. “I’ll do 
that right away. Don’t leak a drop fur as I 
can see, Sam.” 

“Not a bit, Uncle Seth,” said Sam. 
“You’ve had her swelling in the water and, be- 





268 


HEAVE SHORT 


sides, you did such a thorough job of caulking 
that she couldn’t leak. Those curtains in the 
cabin are your work, Mother,” he declared, 
smiling towards her. “Isn’t the cabin a 
dandy? Those cushions look comfortable 
enough to sleep on.” 

“Oh, she’s such a pretty boat!” said Mrs. 
Hotchkiss. “I think Captain Nickerson was 
very kind to put all that work in for you, 
Samuel.” 

“He sure was,” said Sam, giving Uncle 
Seth a pat of affection. 

“Wal, you see, Mrs. Hotchkiss,” drawled 
Uncle Seth, “it was pleasant work and it’s 
some satisfaction to know that I can still 
build a boat. I had lots of fun doin’ it, 
perticerly as Mr. Hotchkiss allowed me free 
rein in the matter of stuff to put into her. 
This mahogany wheel, now, is jest a leetle 
fancy that dresses her up. It’s sure been a 
pleasant job and, besides, I’ve had good help.” 
He smiled at Sam. 

“Guess I didn’t help much,” protested 
Sam, “but it was fun anyway. My! can’t 
she sail?” 


THE LAUNCHING 


269 


“Yep,” answered Uncle Seth, “she acts 
purty and no mistake. I tell ye, next sum¬ 
mer you and I and yer father ought to take 
her and cruise along the coast stoppin’ where 
we have a mind to.” 

“That would be great, wouldn’t it, Father?” 

“Sounds good to me,” responded his father. 
“I never did any cruising, but I’m game to 
try it.” 

“We could have a right good time,” de¬ 
clared the old skipper, “sail around to Nan¬ 
tucket, and then mebbe down to Newport— 
Oh, anywhere most. She’d stand most any 
kind of weather.” 

“I wish Tom could go,” said Sam. 

“Wal, mebbe he can,” agreed Uncle Seth. 
“Yer father will be his boss by that time, and 
if you can tear Tom loose from the farm, that 
would make up a nice little party.” 

“We won’t git home in time for dinner, if 
we don’t come about, Seth,” reminded Mrs. 
Nickerson. 

“Come about, then, it is,” said her husband. 
“When Aunt Cynthy says dinner, I alius 
agree with her,” he chuckled. 


270 


HEAVE SHORT 


“Makes me think of old man Lipton. He 
alius agreed with folks, no matter what they, 
said. One time there was a new brand of 
religious meetings held here at the school- 
house. I fergit what it was now. They 
called ’em religious meetin’s, but they seemed 
to me to be mighty curious. Old Lipton went 
to the meetin’s, and jined the movement right 
away, and was goin’ it strong. Somebody 
over to the corner see Lipton one night an’ 
says, ‘Uncle Ceph, what is this new sect 
they’ve started up here, you belong to ’em, 
don’t ye?’ 

“ ‘Sartin,’ says he, ‘I’ve jined up with ’em. 
It’s a great idee.’ 

“ ‘You’re one of ’em, be ye?’ asked one 
feller. ‘Wal what do ye believe, are they 
Baptist or Methodist or what?’ 

“ ‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ he talked 
quick and said things over twice, ‘I believe 
jest as they do, I believe jest as they do.’ 

“So yer see, I don’t know what we’re goin’ 
to have for dinner, but I believe jest as Cyn- 
thy does,” he laughed. 


CHAPTER XXIV 

CYNTHIA B. VERSUS THE SURPRISE 

T HE name Surprise now adorned the 
stern and bow of the new catboat. Sam 
had spent the larger part of his waking hours 
in her since the christening two weeks before. 
He had sailed and sailed by the hour, and 
once in a while he had raced with other craft 
for short spurts about the harbor. Beaten 
them? Surely he had beaten them, when 
they were at all in his class. He could get 
all the speed from the Surprise that she 
had to give. Quick to obey his hand, she had 
never failed him. 

He wished he could try her out in a regular 
race, and sail her as he did the Cynthia B. 
last summer. He decided that there was 
nothing in the bay or along the shore that 
could defeat his twenty-five footer. He had 
done pretty well, he told himself, in two 
271 


272 


HEAVE SHORT 


seasons to be able to handle a boat so skill¬ 
fully. He felt that now he was a thorough 
sailor: that he could meet all comers and all 
boats, and lead them. 

He had proved to his own satisfaction that 
there wasn’t a boat in the harbor that could 
—Ah! the Cynthia B. f he had never 
sailed his craft against Uncle Seth’s boat. 
Of course the Cynthia B. was a good boat 
but the Surprise was a better one, he was 
confident. He would like to try against the 
Cynthia B., but it would be a shame to 
hurt Uncle Seth’s feelings by bringing down 
the old fayorite to defeat. If Uncle Seth 
wasn’t an old man, and if he didn’t think so 
much of him, he wouldn’t hesitate a moment 
to issue a challenge. Uncle Seth had been 
so good to him always, and had taught him 
how to sail: no, he wouldn’t for the world 
hurt the dear old man’s feelings. 

“How’s the Surprised asked Uncle Seth, 
wiping his hands upon the roller towel in 
the kitchen. 

“Going great,” said Sam. “I haven’t found 
anything that I couldn’t pass so far.” 


CYNTHIA B. VERSUS THE SURPRISE 273 

“Sho, clean up any boat in the harbor, I 
s’pose,” remarked the old man. 

“I think I can,” declared Sam, confidently. 

“Even the Cynthia B., I reckon,” smiled 
Uncle Seth. 

“Well, er—er—I don’t know. The Sur¬ 
prise sails pretty well,” admitted the boy. 

“Depends sunthin’ on who’s sailing her, I 
reckon,” said Uncle Seth, looking keenly at 
Sam. 

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Of course, I under¬ 
stand her pretty well, for I’ve been sailing 
her every day for two weeks.” 

“Sure enough, so ye have,” agreed Uncle 
Seth. “In that length of time you ought to 
pick up all her kinks. Wal, now, you have 
to go back home termorrer, what do you say to 
you and me havin’ a little brush? Me in the 
Cynthy B., and you in the Surprise! Le’s 
wind up the summer right. You’ve got 
the Surprise so she’ll lie down and roll 
over for ye, purty nigh; do all the tricks. I 
want to see how you can make her act.” 

This was, of course, what Sam would rather 
do than anything, but he wished he hadn’t 


274 


HEAVE SHORT 


talked so much about the Surprise now, 
for he saw that if he sailed her against the 
Cynthia B., Uncle Seth would be pretty well 
broken up over the defeat of his pet. No, 
he’d have to get out of it somehow, just for 
the old sailor’s sake. 

“I don’t believe I can, Uncle Seth. I’ll 
have quite a lot of packing to do, and I’m not 
sure that I’ll have time,” he said, lamely. 

“Jimmynetty! It won’t take no time at all. 
We could run out to the can buoy and back. 
There’s one more race in the Cynthia B., 
I reckon,” he said, almost wistfully. 

Sam couldn’t upset Uncle Seth by racing 
against the Cynthia B. Here he had a 
brand new boat that would do anything 
for him. It wasn’t fair. No, he couldn’t. 
The Surprise carried quite a bit more sail 
than the older boat. The Cynthia B. would 
be sailing under too great odds. 

“I guess not, Uncle Seth. We’re going 
tomorrow, you know, and I have lots of 
things to do. I’ve had a bully summer, Uncle 
Seth, even better than last. The four months 
I’ve been here have seemed mighty short,” he 


CYNTHIA B. VERSUS THE SURPRISE 275 


rattled on, trying to get off the subject of the 
boat race: but Uncle Seth was not to be put 
off. 

“Look here, Sam,” demanded the Captain, 
“you ain’t scairt to try it, are ye?” 

“No, sir,” came from Sam, firmly. “It’s 
just that I don’t care about it.” 

“Be a sport, Sam,” urged Uncle Seth. 
“We won’t git together again on the harbor 
’fore another summer. Don’t try to dodge. 
I believe you dassen’t.” 

That was enough. To tell a boy that he 
“dassen’t,”—that’s a little too much, and Sam 
ran true to form. 

“All right, I’m game,” he said quietly. 
“Just the same, I hate to beat Uncle Seth,” he 
thought. 

The two boats were ready. Sam looked 
over to where the Cynthia B. with her patched 
canvas and dulled paint turned about under 
Uncle Seth’s hand. What a contrast! the boy 
thought. The Surprise bristled her snow 
white sail confidently. The varnish upon her 
spars gleamed in the sunlight. She had been 
over the course, to the can buoy and back, 


276 


HEAVE SHORT 


many times during the two weeks she had 
been in the water. 

They were to take no passengers. Sam’s 
father stood on the wharf with a revolver. 
Three minutes before the hour, a revolver shot 
would tell them to get ready. The starting 
line lay between the wharf and a dory 
anchored off to the south, a hundred yards 
or so. Exactly on the hour, a second shot 
would mean they were to cross the line 
for the start. If either crossed before the re¬ 
port sounded, he would be obliged to return 
and cross again. So it behooved each boat¬ 
man to keep his craft near the line., and on 
the second shot be ready to shoot across. 
They were to race to the can buoy, some three 
miles out, and return. They would beat out, 
and on the return run before the strong west¬ 
erly breeze. 

Bang! went the three minute gun. 

Sam held his eye on the watch at his wrist. 
Uncle Seth was sailing around in circles,— 
not apparently trying to keep very near the 
starting line. “Uncle Seth doesn’t seem to 
realize that within a half a minute the start- 


CYNTHIA B. VERSUS THE SURPRISE 277 

ing gun will sound,” thought Sam. Sam held 
his boat, with sails aflutter, as near the line 
as he could. She seemed like some gigantic 
greyhound held in leash, impatient to be off. 

The Cynthia B. came about leisurely, 
now headed for the starting line. “She does 
cut through the water pretty,” Sam admitted. 

Bang! Over the line shot the Surprise 
but right at her heels came the Cynthia 
IB. Sam was off on the port tack. Uncle 
Seth kept the Cynthia B. on the starboard 
tack. “It doesn’t matter,” thought the boy. 
“I’ll tack again when I reach the point.” 

The point, which Sam held in mind was 
densely wooded. The neck of land, that 
Uncle Seth made for, was wind swept and 
bare. When the Surprise dashed off Sam ex¬ 
ulted in her performance. She’d show the 
dynthia B. her heels. The new boat slack¬ 
ened her speed a bit. Sam realized that he 
shouldn’t hold her close to the wind. He 
remembered that Uncle Seth had told him 
that nothing is gained by jamming a boat so 
close to the wind that her sails are all ashake, 
so he bore off a bit. Now she filled her sails 


278 


HEAVE SHORT 


and took the bone in her teeth. “Glorious!” 
thought Sam. 

When the point was reached and he tacked, 
he saw why Uncle Seth had chosen the star¬ 
board tack. The dense growth shut off' a 
good deal of wind, while the sandy neck 
where the Cynthia B . had turned had no 
sobstruction upon it. The Surprise bowled 
along, heeling over and behaving handsomely. 
How she could go! Sam tended sheet and 
used all the sailor knowledge that he had ac¬ 
quired. 

“Full and bye,” he kept saying to himself. 
“That’s the thing.” The waves dashed by 
him, and the spray ran in rivulets along her 
deck. 

Why! what is that? The Cynthia B.? 
She’s rounding the buoy. How in the world 
did she get up there so soon? Now she’s 
coming back, with her canvas outflung. Be¬ 
fore Sam made the turn to round the buoy, 
the Cynthia B . passed astern of him on her 
return trip. 

The Surprise wore around the red can, 
“A little short, perhaps, but she’ll make that 


CYNTHIA B. VERSUS THE SURPRISE 279 

up. Just wait till she gets on the home 
stretch and strikes her gait,” thought her skip¬ 
per, as she raced after the dingy patched can¬ 
vas of her smaller sister boat. 

Fifty yards ahead Sam saw Uncle Seth sit¬ 
ting stolidly at the wheel, and then the boy 
caught a white wisp of smoke, for the old 
man had let the sail boat go by herself long 
enough to cup his hands and calmly light his 
pipe. That was rubbing it in! Sam grimly 
clenched the sheet and wheel. 

What was the matter? The new boat had 
all the wind which was given to Uncle Seth’s 
craft, and yet there was the Cynthia B . ramp¬ 
ing along, increasing the distance between 
them every minute. The youthful skipper 
became exasperated as he saw the white haired 
old sailor in the lead and caught the little 
puffs of smoke from his pipe. 

There was nothing more that Sam could 
do. .The Surprise had every inch of sail 
drawing taut. He tried shifting her course 
a trifle but to no avail. He was being 
whipped. He knew it. 

Bang! The gun spoke, as the Cynthia B . 




280 


HEAVE SHORT 


swirled across the line, and Uncle Seth 
brought her around and up to the wharf. She 
must have crossed—how many boat lengths 
ahead? Boat lengths! It could be better 
measured in ocean liner lengths. 

When the Surprise came abreast the wharf 
Uncle Seth was chatting with Mr. Hotchkiss. 
The Cynthia B. lay with her sails furled, 
moored to the wharf post. 

Suddenly Sam saw light. He knew now 
that all his pity had been wasted upon the old 
skipper. He himself had been rather cocky 
about his sailing ability; and the old man, 
dear old Uncle Seth, had tried in his homely 
way to take the cockiness out of him. It 
wasn’t the fault of the Surprise . Of course, 
Uncle Seth could change boats and beat him 
just the same. He’d had a swelled head,— 
that was the matter with him. What a fool 
boy he had been! Well, he wouldn’t be a 
sore head. He hadn’t been beaten by a better 
boat, but by an old and better sailor, who had 
sailed a boat for years and years. 

Sam jumped to the wharf and shook hands 
with Uncle Seth. “The Cynthia B. is no 


CYNTHIA B. VERSUS THE SURPRISE 281 


better boat than the Surprise, Uncle Seth,” 
he said with a smile, “but you outsailed me, 
that’s all. I’m in the kindergarten class yet. 
I guess I forgot for a while that you were 
a regular sailor.” 

“There, Sam,” said the old man, his face 
lighting up with pleasure, “that’s the way to 
take a lickin’. No excuses, no nothin’. Sam, 
I’m proud of ye. You sail fust rate, but, as 
a general thing, it ain’t a mite of use for a 
young colt to go against a seasoned old race 
hoss.” 

“I’ll remember, Uncle Seth,” laughed 
Sam, as he pushed the Surprise off toward 
her mooring. 

“Well, you won, Uncle Seth, you beat Sam 
in good shape. I hope it doesn’t bother him 
too much,” said Mr. Hotchkiss, as he and the 
captain were walking up the lane to the house. 

“You know, Mr. Hotchkiss,” said Uncle 
Seth, his eyes twinkling, “sometimes a kickin’ 
strap put on a colt, when he’s young, is the 
makin’ of him. It keeps him from gittin’ his 
heels too fur over the dasher.” 

THE END 


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